You Found Me
by Mrs. Peeta Mellark 74
Summary: AU: When tragedy strikes, Peeta Mellark's life turns upside down. Pushing away his best friend, Katniss Everdeen, he isolates himself while doing drugs and drinking away the pain. It is not until 2 years later Katniss returns to him as his physics tutor - not only helping him improve his grades, but also bring his life back together. Based on the song "You Found Me", by The Fray.
1. The Tutor

**This song is based on the song, "You Found Me", by The Fray. I highly recommend you guys to listen to it while you read my story. **

**My story is rated T, but there are some mature themes like drug and alcohol abuse, child abuse, and some swearing. This is kind of at the verge of M, but not really because it doesn't have ****_explicit_**** content. I'll probably write up to 15-20 chapters for this story, but I don't have an updating schedule. However, I promise I won't leave you guys hanging for more than a week or so.**

**This chapter will be kind of short. I just wanted to give you guys an introduction of what's going to come.**

**All property belongs to its rightful owners.**

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Nibbling at the end of my pencil, I try to pay attention in class. Mr. Crane already snapped in my face twice today, and I don't want to stay after school just for dozing off. It becomes increasingly difficult for me to stay awake as Crane continues to drawl on about Newton's Law, but surprisingly I able to keep my eyes open ten minutes in the period. I think the reason is the only thing occupying my mind is the resemblance of Crane's beard to the flames in our fireplace during the holidays.

It was not until the door bursting open that I face myself back into reality. A lanky, skinny pale boy enters the room, with his messy curls hanging over his forehead. His cold, blue eyes lock with my own, and I immediately turn away. I have to remind myself that this boy is no longer the oneI knew years ago.

Crane automatically scowls at the sight of him. My physics teacher is not one to tolerate tardiness, and Peeta Mellark is no exception to this. Crane eyes him up and down, and then asks coldly, "What has made you late to my class for the sixth time in a row, Mr. Mellark?"

Peeta snaps his head from his shoes to meet Crane's gaze. He balls his hands into fists, and his jaw tightens. This boy not seem threatening considering his body frame, but I have seen his in numerous occasions forcing people into a headlock. However, that is not only thing that is threatening about his. It is his aura. He fills the atmosphere with coldness, stoniness, and fear. And it is quite apparent, because every time he walks in class, almost everybody silent out of fear of him. Kids at school would rather hug the brute Cato Hedley than meet eyes with Peeta Mellark. It is hard to believe he used to be my best friend - a kind, sympathetic, charismatic, and generous boy who would never even hurt a fly. I don't know what has happened for the past couple of years, but it certainly has changed him. "My bus came late," he states stonily. Almost everybody knows it is a lie. Perhaps Peeta was simply taking a smoke outside, or was fighting with somebody across the street.

"You have detention for thirty minutes after class, Mr. Mellark," Crane snaps. He then turns his head abruptly back to the class, and says, "Please take our textbooks and turn to page 31, class."

I take out my textbook slowly as I watch Peeta go to his seat with the corner of my eye. He doesn't have his textbook with him, nor his bag. His desk neighbour, who I nicknamed Foxface, doesn't even make eye contact with him as she takes out her textbook. Its obvious Foxface won't share her textbook with him, not like he would agree to anyway.

Crane assigns some homework for us to complete, and I begin right away. I skim through the questions, and automatically determine an answer for each one of them. By the end of the period, I complete all the questions. Although physics has always been easy for me, I find it the most boring class in my schedule. Perhaps it's the class itself that makes it tedious – Mr. Crane has always found a way to make things as formal – and boring- as possible. I still plan to go into chemical engineering after I complete the twelfth grade though.

The bell rings. I throw my books inside my bag, and I am about to leave the class until Mr. Crane calls my name. My heart suddenly starts thumping against my chest. I slowly turn around, where I find Mr. Crane looking at me carefully. He slowly motions myself to him, and so I drag my feet across the room to him.

"How are you finding physics, Miss Everdeen?" Crane asks.

I am immediately suspicious of him. What does it matter to him if I enjoy physics or not? However, I play it safe and respond, "It's interesting."

He clears his throat. "You are one of the most hard-working and bright students in this class, and so I have a favour to ask from you."

Crane waits for my response. I eye him carefully. "What favour?"

The emotionless, strange-bearded, cold man replies, "You know Mr. Peeta Mellark, correct? His grades are dropping on a great scale, and so I would find that it would be in his best interest to receive a tutor to help him with his work."

My head begins to spin. "You want me to tutor Peeta?" I ask incredulously. "He doesn't seem to want to bring up his grade."

Mr. Crane lifts his eyebrow in surprise. My face reddens. I have never been one to express my emotions, especially in class. "I will give you an extra credit. I know you wanted to receive a higher mark in your last unit test, so this will be your chance to bring up your average."

I stare at Mr. Crane. I can't believe that Crane would bribe me with extra marks so I could tutor Peeta. Although I would like my mark to return back to a 95, I rather stick with my current average than have another encounter with Peeta again. Things have been extremely tensed with him since the last time I've spoken to him. And that time we left at a bad note.

"Peeta is having a rough time. A couple of years ago he was a very intelligent student – you would know that, Miss Everdeen. He just needs to get back on track with his education. I believe you can help him with that," Crane explains.

It's almost surprising that Crane cares for Peeta. I always considered him as a cold-hearted man who wouldn't hesitate to fail a student if he or she leaves a bad impression on him. My heart almost softens for Crane. Perhaps I don't dislike my physics teacher after all.

"Will you tutor Peeta, Katniss?" Crane asks, waiting for my answer.

I return my gaze from my shoes back to my teacher. I still care for Peeta. Well, at least I think I do. But I don't think Peeta would want to see me again - he already made a point of it the last time we spoken to each other. At the same time, I want Peeta to return back to his old self. Maybe I will be able to help him with that. "Okay, fine," I answer quickly before I am able to object.

Crane grimaces, which I think was supposed to be a smile. "Thank you, Miss Everdeen. I will speak to Peeta afterschool, and we can figure out the days he will take sessions with you." Crane then proceeds to scribble a note on a piece of paper, a valid excuse for my lateness for period three. As I tuck the piece of paper inside my pocket, I rush past the door without saying goodbye to the teacher. My heart beats rapidly as I make my way through the empty halls to my biology class. My thoughts are whirling in my head. All I can make out in the storm within is that I'm tutoring Peeta Mellark. But how will I be able to explain e=mc^2 when I am barely able to make eye contact with him?


	2. The Student

**I didn't mean to upload another chapter today, but I honestly couldn't stop myself. I just completed this chapter and I was so excited to post it so I did, even though it's been only a couple of hours since I posted the first one. LOL so here you guys go, enjoy xx **

**All property belongs to its rightful owners.**

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The next day, Peeta is in class on time. Avoiding eye contact with him, I maneuver my way to my seat. Leaning over to my bag, I take out my notebook and textbook. When I sit upright again, I find none other than Peeta standing in front my desk.

"You don't need to tutor me," Peeta states icily.

Of course Peeta wouldn't want me to tutor him. That would totally deflate his ego. So what was I thinking when I agreed with Crane that I would help him with physics? Unfortunately, now I have made that deal with stupid Crane, I am unable to get myself out of it. "Mr. Crane told me to help you with physics," I manage out.

"Then say no," he snaps angrily.

"I already agreed to," I state while trying to maintain composure.

"You can still refuse, godammit," Peeta says furiously.

Clenching my teeth, and trying to stay calm, I say, "It's too late for that now, Peeta. I will have to tutor you, whether you like it or not. You can get rid of me as soon as you're able to leave this class with a passing grade."

Peeta stares me down with his cold blue eyes. Usually, this would make me writhe under my skin and shudder. But this skinny boy can't do anything to hurt me, and it's not like I would let him. He can gawk at me as long as he wants, but it won't change my answer. Suddenly, Crane enters the room. "Class, sit down." Peea still holds his ground. He doesn't even seem to have noticed that Crane has come. He continues to stare at me like a piece of meat. "Peeta, I have told you to sit down." Peeta doesn't move an inch. "Peeta." Surprisingly, he slowly moves away from my desk, but he still keeps his eyes on me. He makes his way back to the desk, and it is not until he sits down that his gaze falls down to his shoes. I look away from Peeta, and I find the entire class staring at me.

Crane clears his throat and begins his lesson.

…

I sit beside Madge Undersee at lunch. She's a quiet girl, who is introverted and doesn't bother to make a meaningless conversation. This suits us both fine. Although Madge is the mayor's daughter, she is quite simple. She always wears a pair of jeans and a hoodie, and doesn't spark conversations about boys or clothes or anything of the like. Although we don't speak too often, we enjoy each other's company.

After I finish my cheese sandwich, I throw my backpack over my shoulder. Madge looks questioningly at me as I prepare to leave the cafeteria. "I need to go to the library to tutor a kid," I explain vaguely.

"Who?" Madge asks.

Biting my lip, I mutter, "Peeta Mellark."

Her eyes widen at the mention of his name. "Peeta? That drug-addict douchebag you were friends with in the tenth grade?"

I gasp. "Drugs? He does drugs?" I knew he smoked, but I never knew he was involved in something that was illegal. Where are his parents? Does his parents know? Mr. Mellark would be so disappointed in him. Mrs. Mellark would be so embarrassed of him that she would kick him out. What happened to Peeta?

"You didn't know?" Madge exclaims, forcing me out of my thoughts.

"I knew that he got into fights a lot, and he smoked…but other drugs?" I mumble. I have to remind myself that I shouldn't care what he does in his leisure. We're not friends anymore. I am forced to help with physics. All I have to do is explain a couple of things twice or thrice a week at lunch, and that would be practically it.

Shaking my head, I turn my back to Madge. I walk hesitatingly past the crowded cafeteria, and make my way to the library across the noisy halls. As I reach the entrance of the library, I lean against the glass doors. My hand holds the handle, at the verge of opening the door to meet my student. I am about to turn it, but I cowardly bring my hand back. I can't do it. I can't see Peeta's face again. "Hey, hurry up," someone suddenly calls from the back. My cheeks reddening, I twist the handle I walk in. I must've looked ridiculous leaning against the door like that. I should've just left instead of just staying there to decide whether or not to go in. Now, I'm here in the library, about to meet the shell of what once was Peeta Mellark. I think to myself I still have time to leave the library, until I see Peeta across the room looking at me.

I haven't realized until now that Peeta could have not showed up. Perhaps Crane threatened to fail him for good if he refused to get tutored by me. However, whatever the reason, he is here and I have no choice but to teach him physics. And he has seen me, so there is no way I can get out of this situation. So, I have no choice but to drag myself towards him. Every step I take, the faster my heart beats against my chest. By the time I face to face with him, I am struggling to breathe.

After a pregnant pause, I choke out, "Hi."

Peeta looks at me expressionlessly.

"Let's sit," I mumble, walking towards an empty table a couple of metres away from us. Slowly dropping myself to the chair, I watch the boy making his way to the other end of the table. I sit down hesitatingly, I take out my books.

Realizing that Peeta didn't bring anything with him, I ask quietly, "Do you have your stuff?"

His head suddenly snaps up. He stares. And then, he shakes his head.

Unsure what to do, I begin to blabber nervously, "I guess we should start making some new study notes for the unit. Crane's notes may seem confusing since he goes into unnecessary detail, so it's better if we just start anew. That way, we are able to determine what's important and what's not. From there, we can find out what you are struggling with, and I can –"

"Katniss," Peeta says quietly.

Peeta saying my name, so simple, yet so strangely disturbing – I find my heart beating rapidly and armpits becoming moist. Looking up from my lap, I see Peeta searching my face. He doesn't seem angry like he usually does. It's then I notice the dark circles around his eyes, and the bruises peeking out of the collar of shirt that are beginning to purple. Somehow, I'm shaking.

"You can leave. I won't improve my mark anyhow, so there's no point in being here. I'll still tell Crane that you are tutoring me, so that you can get your extra credit," he explains emotionlessly.

I'm almost angry that he thinks that I'm tutoring him only for my benefit, but I have to remind myself that he is speaking nothing but the truth. That is the only reason why I'm helping him, I think. Or maybe I do want to tutor him so he can pass. I don't know.

"I won't get my extra credit if I can't help you pass," I blurt. The moment I say it, I instantly regret it. Now I have just confirmed his thoughts, and it only proves my selfishness and cruel manipulation.

"I only came here today just to tell you this, Katniss. I'm not here to learn from you. I know I'm just wasting your time," Peeta says.

I search his eyes to see anything but the truth. But I can't. It's clear that Peeta doesn't want anything to do with me now. He already made a point of it numerous of times. He pushed me away more times than I can count. I should just leave him. But I can't figure out the reason why that's preventing me from doing so.

"Peeta, this not up for a debate. You're here to get tutored, and you have no say in it. Do you not want to pass?" I ask him exasperatedly.

His eyes begin to blaze in anger. He clutches his fists like he always does when he's furious, so I know I have stepped over the line. "I don't care if I don't pass! I'm not sure why I'm still in school, anyway. I should just fucking drop out."

"Then why don't you?" I challenge, because I honestly want to know.

Peeta stares at me, eyes widened and mouth agape. For a moment, I think he's going to cry. But before my thoughts are confirmed, he storms out the library.

I'm now left with just my thoughts. Instinctively, I rest my head on the table, and place my hands over my hair. I try imagining the days when I was best friends with Peeta. Back then, I could never imagine him in the position he is right now. I could never imagine him smoking, doing drugs, drinking alcohol, fighting random people, and being so…_cold_.

The rest of the day drags on. I can't pay attention in class, because the only thing that's in my mind is my conversation with Peeta. I don't understand what's wrong with him. He pushed me away, so how can I go crawling back to him? He doesn't want me. He doesn't need me. He made it clear we are not friends, so I guess it's better for us to stick that way.


	3. Dandelion

**Hey guys! I posted this chapter much earlier than I have intended, but I was too excited. Anyway, here you guys go xx**

**By the way, Gale is Katniss' age is the story, and both of their fathers are alive. I just wanted to give you guys a heads- up. **

**As always, I own nothing.**

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I sit in the spot we have met before in the library. Peeta is supposed to be here by 12, and it's 12:10. Scowling at the clock adjacent to me, I decide that I should just leave. I'm wasting my time, I should be studying for my biology test instead of sitting here like a pathetic, helpless dog, waiting for his owner to come back from the convenience store. Stashing my pencils and pens back into my pencil class, and then throwing it back into my backpack, I abruptly get up from the chair, almost knocking it down. I march out of the library, head spinning in anger. How dare he leave be hanging for the second time in the row? He should've at least spoken to me that he doesn't won't to continue his classes. How pathetic must I seem, waiting for him as if he were going to come.

I am not paying attention where I'm going until I crash into somebody. Falling down, my hand makes contact with the hard floor. Swearing in pain, I try standing up as somebody pulls me from the ground. When I'm finally on my feet, I find myself standing face-to-face with Peeta Mellark.

"Where the hell were you?" I snap angrily, immediately forgetting the pain on my forearm.

Peeta shrugs, gripping his strap on his bag nervously. "I had some stuff to do before I could come."

"You had me waiting for like 20 minutes," I state, swiftly picking up my fallen bag on the floor.

Peeta shrugs again, and then says, "It was actually only 10 minutes."

Scowling towards Peeta, who looks at me expressionlessly, I try figuring out if he wants to be taught by me. Peeta has his bag. He seems ready to learn in that case. He might be late, but at least he admits it. "Let's go," I huff decisively, stomping into the quietness of the library and leaving the noise of the crowded atrium. Finding our previous seat, I plop myself in one of the chairs. Peeta slowly sits on the one opposite of me, avoiding eye contact. Bringing out my books, and taking out one of my pens, I say, "Let's make those notes I was speaking about earlier."

Peeta doesn't say anything, but he still brings out a pen and places it in front of him. I decide I might as well start with the lesson. I take out our textbook, and then some sticky notes. I search through the pages, and place a sticky note on a concept that I think is important to cover. Then, I ask him whether he needs help on each sticky note, which he replies with a short "yes" or "no". The ones he responds with "no" I star. By the end of our little textbook search, I realize that there are less starred concepts than I thought there would be. Perhaps Peeta is lying what he's struggling with so it wouldn't demean his ego or something. When I look up from my textbook, getting ready to start with the first chapter, I find Peeta already staring intently at me. He no longer stares at me with anger, but what it almost seems be curiosity. Biting my lower lip, I look to the desk as I start explaining the key points of the chapter. I begin scribbling away the parts he should remember on a paper, and by the time we're done with the first chapter, I push it towards him. "Here are your notes for your first chapter. Read it over, and see if it makes sense."

Peeta skims through my writing before he nods in approval. When he pushes the paper back at me, I ask curiously, "I thought you found this lesson hard."

His face changes into something I can't depict. "I'm not stupid."

"I know you're not," I tell him defensively. "Of course I wouldn't think that. Especially when you had a 4.0 GPA back in grade 10."

Peeta shrugs indifferently, "I might not be stupid, but I'm still not in grade 10 anymore."

He's right. We're not. Circumstances have changed into something irreversible, so I know that things will never be the same again. "How about we bring up your grades to what it was before," I suggest.

"I don't think that's possible," he mutters, clasping his dry hands together, and then fixating his vision upon them.

"Then let's get as close as we can get," I tell him.

…

Our study session was extremely awkward. It seems our roles have changed throughout the years, with myself talking more instead of Peeta. Back then, I would beg him to stop talking about different types of bread around the world, but now I wish that he would say something that would remind me of his old self. Anyway, I have undermined Peeta and his understanding of physics. He is quite sharp, and is able to catch on to the concepts quickly. I was impressed by the end of our lunch break that we were able to go through three lessons, and having Peeta understand them thoroughly.

When the last bell rings, it is the end of the day. I push the bodies away from me in the crowded atrium, and then force myself outside. There, I find Prim, my little sister, under the flag pole. She is talking to one of the Hawthrone brothers, Rory. It was cute when they were little 10 year olds, who tried to hide their feelings of one another. But now they are freshmen of Panem High, so I kind of fear Rory being around Prim so much. Not only is it annoying seeing them eye each other with flushed cheeks, but I also am skeptical of them together when I find that Prim shouldn't be dating at a young age. She may be 14 now, but to me, she is still my little baby. Rory is a good kid, all the Hawthorne boys are – even Gale, for that matter - so I don't need to worry that he won't treat her right.

I decide I should give them a little time alone, until I hear a voice behind me, "This is getting more pathetic day by day. When will Rory just grow some balls and ask Prim out?"

I scowl, knowing fully well who the owner of the voice is. "Shut up, Gale. They are still young."

"They're 14, Catnip," Gale says matter-of-factly. "They are going to be dating sooner or later."

Suddenly, Prim and Rory are in front of us, giggling over some joke. "Hey Katniss!" Prim exclaims, and then turns to Gale, "Hi!"

Gale ruffles Prim's hair affectionately. The Hawthornes have been family friends to us for years. Gale's father and mine had been pals back in high school, and now work together as civil engineers of the city. The Hawthornes have always been brothers to me, and we have always been sisters to them. Gale and I always said that it would finally be official once Prim and Rory get married, when we will become brother and sister- in law. "So how was school, chap?" Gale asks, turning to his little brother.

"It was okay, the usual. Mrs. Coin was extra boring today, she kept on going on about the same thing over and over...," Rory goes on until I tune out. I admire Gale's patience with his brothers, something that I will never have for anyone. We continue walking away from the school, until Rory pipes up about something, "Hey, look. There's a fight."

Without turning my head, I immediately know who is involved in fight. But when I do, it is none other than Peeta Mellark. Peeta is throwing punches towards a lean, pale-skinned boy, who I believe is the jack-ass Marvel. Marvel is blocking his upper body, but at the same time he's kicking Peeta in the shins. Although this is nothing out of the ordinary, I still can't help but wonder what the fight is about. Perhaps Peeta was unable to pay for his drugs or something.

"Man, that Mellark kid is getting ridiculous," Gale mumbles, shaking his head disapprovingly towards Peeta.

Although I don't say anything, I agree.

…

"Hi Mom!" Prim calls out as she tosses her shoes into the closet. Our home smells of garlic and spaghetti sauce, so I immediately figure out what we're having for dinner today. I smile, Mom's spaghetti and meatballs, with her famous garlic bread, has always been a favorite of mine.

Although I'm really craving Mom's food, I'm really tired. I climb up the stairs after I taken off my shoes, and then make my way to my room. I drop my schoolbag against the door, and then fall on top of my bed. School has been extremely emotionally and mentally exhausting. Closing my eyes, I try to remember Peeta's face years ago. He had bright blue eyes, with eyelashes that we so long and curly that couldn't be noted unless you're looking at him under the light. He had full, pink lips, and dimples would form on both of his cheeks whenever he would smile. He had curly, blond hair that used to spring freely from his head. He was also healthy. He had broad shoulders and muscular. Back then, he caught every girl's eye with his good looks. Madge told me that some girls, particularly Glimmer, was jealous of me because of all the time I spent with Peeta. Not a lot of people knew we were best friends, not lovers. Anyway, he was on the wrestling team, football team, and on student council. Everybody, including the teachers, loved him.

I get up abruptly from by bed, sitting upright. I crawl to the other side of my mattress, and then I pull out a drawer from my nightstand. Inside is a mass of papers, books, and folders. Under a pile of old math worksheet, I rummage out the thing I was looking for.

Running my fingers through the precise, detailed petals of the bright yellow dandelion, I remember the time when Peeta gave me this sketch. We were sixteen years old, when my uncle, Haymitch, passed away. I was in a pit of grief, even though I kind of resented the old alcoholic from time to time. Anyway, Peeta was there at the funeral, even though he had never met Haymitch, to give condolences to our family. I was somewhat annoyed that Peeta was there, because I figured that he should've given me space at the time of passing. Instead, he came with warm, baked goods to give out during the sessions, and given me a sketch of a dandelion beginning to boom. He told me that it was to remind me that things can be good again despite all the losses. In the back of my head, I wanted to refuse it, but I had the least decency to take it and grudgingly thank him. I thought that the sketch was meaningless and unnecessary, so by the time I returned back home, I tossed it into my night stand. I had not taken it from those drawers again – until now.

I hold the sketch to my chest, enveloping it with my arms. I wish Peeta, _my_ Peeta, was here again. My best friend. My rock. The one I can depend on. But I have to remind myself that Peeta Mellark is far from my reach. I will never be able to have him again.

The only thing I could do for him now is help him improve is physics grade.


	4. Drunk

**Okay guys, this is an angsty chapter . Please feel free add some helpful advice to the commets, or even some constructive critiscism (no insults, please. I'm only a beginner in writing, and I'm still trying out different genres). Thanks for the reviews, favorites, and follows guys! :)**

**Trigger warning: alcoholism, child abuse.**

**I own nothing.**

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I swirl the Cheerios in the bowl of milk. I don't have much of an appetite this morning, and it makes it worse that I have zero energy to take on the day. Not to mention I have a biology test today, which I didn't study for. I spent most of my evening yesterday just lying in bed, thinking about Peeta and his situation. I hadn't given much thought about Peeta until I became his tutor -as I was forced to teach him physics although it is clear that he doesn't want the help. Anyway, I don't think Peeta and I will ever be friends, and if we do – which I doubt – our friendship would not last long. I'm planning to go out of state so I can attend a good university, and Peeta…I don't think he has any plans for post-secondary education. Either way, there's no point thinking about him anymore. He is now simply my student, nothing else.

Yawning, I get up from my seat. Dad, who is sitting opposite from me, lowers his newspaper and eyes me carefully. Then, he looks at my half-full bowl of cereal. "Not hungry, Kat?"

Shaking my head, I grab my backpack resting against my chair. "No, I ate a lot of Mom's spaghetti yesterday."

Dad nods, but he still doesn't keep his eyes off of me. He knows that something is wrong. He was always the one who could understand me the best, since we are so similar. But I didn't take on a couple of his traits – his patience and charisma. I don't know where I have inherited my stubbornness, impatience, repulsiveness from, but I'm sure everybody around me wishes I didn't possess these traits. I can get pretty hard to get along with, so it is kind of hard for me to make friends. Madge and Gale are my only friends at school, but Madge is only my friend because of convenience, and Gale I have known since I could understand who he was. The only person I was able to truly, legitimately, become friends with was Peeta Mellark. But now, even that friendship seems to be meaningless.

"You're tired, Kat. Did you sleep last night?" Dad asks, looking at me carefully with the same silver, grey eyes I have inherited from him. Folding his newspaper, and then placing it carefully on the table, he continues, "You don't have to go to school today. Or maybe I can drop you later so you can get a few hours of sleep."

I shake my head. "You have to get to work. And besides, I have a bio test today." Throwing my backpack over my shoulder, I bid Dad a goodbye. Then, I call Prim from downstairs, who comes rushing down the steps with shoes over her shoulders, backpack in one of her hands, and textbook in the other. "Prim, you should really wake up earlier so you don't have to rush so much in the morning."

"I won't get you late, Katniss!" she exclaims, quickly pulling her shoes onto her feet and then rushing into the kitchen. She returns with a piece of toast between her teeth, while she throws in her textbook in her bag and zips the zipper up. Her blond her flies wildly as she runs to closet, where she takes out her coat. "Let's go!" she states, taking her toast out of her mouth and into both of her hands.

Prim and I walk to school, with the bitter air hitting onto our faces. It's freezing, I have no idea how Prim is able to eat her toast with her hands exposed to chilliness. I walk a bit faster to warm up, crossing my hands against my chest to retain the heat. Soon, Prim is done her breakfast, and we're at school. Luckily, we're ten minutes early, so there's not as many people crowded around the school as there would be at the last minute. Prim goes off to the opposite direction, where her class is closer.

Something catches my eye before I open the door. I see a dark figure looming off into the distance. I step a bit closer in its direction, trying to make out what it is. Still unable to see, I walk closer, which is when I realize that it is a person. I don't know why there is hysteria overcoming me, but I have the sudden urge to break off running towards his direction. But I don't run though, I walk. I walk slowly, almost as if a predator would to its prey. Every step I take, I get a clearer picture of that person. This person is facing his back to me, wearing a dark, old sweater that hangs loosely over his body. And then suddenly, he turns around, and calls my name. "Katniss," he says hauntingly.

I find myself staring at a yellow-skinned, lifeless blue-eyed Peeta. Now, this Peeta holds a bottle of whiskey in his hand, and is stumbling towards my direction. He is a total resemblance of my late uncle, Haymitch, except it is more pitiful because he is only 18. Peeta is drunk.

My breath catches when I look more carefully at him. He has a dark purple bruise on his cheek. "Peeta," I gasp.

"Katniss," he slurs again, swaying side by side.

Instinctively, I rush towards him and grab him by the wrists. His hands are cold. He's cold. "Why are you drinking?" I ask him hysterically, knocking the bottle out of his hands and onto the pavement. The bottle shatters into a million, tiny pieces, and Peeta's face does not distort in any way. He's drunk as a skunk. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

Peeta leans on my shoulder, and says hoarsely, "I've been…been looking for you..." There is this pungent smell of alcohol and sweat, and so it is clear to see – or smell, for that matter – that he hasn't bathed in days.

I grab him by the arms, and push him further back so I can get a better look at him. His clothes are more ratted than usual…has he been outside all night? But why would he be outside? What about his parents and brothers – do they know about Peeta? Do they know what's going on with him? "Peeta, you shouldn't be drinking! What do you think you're doing?!"

"It keeps me…warm," he mumbles, swaying back and forth, and then looking up the sky. Suddenly, he drops to the ground, and picks up the pieces of the shattered whiskey bottle. Abruptly, he brings up his arms to the sky, and yells out on the top of his lungs, "It keeps me nice and warm!" I turn around, and see that there are students walking to school. Some are even watching us. What will happen if a teacher were to catch us? I need to get Peeta out of here. "It keep me nice and warm, nice and warm, nice and warm…," he mumbles under his breath. Nervously, I pick Peeta off from the ground, who is much lighter than I thought he would be. But then, he resists, and plops himself back onto the ground. He keeps on muttering, "Nice and warm".

"Peeta," I hiss angrily. "Stop it." He shrieks as I pick him up again, this time more roughly, and I drag him onto his feet. Then, half-carry him out of school property. It takes a while, perhaps 20 minutes, but I'm glad that he's far away from school now. I don't want Peeta to get suspended, now that I'm trying to help him bring up his grades. "Okay, Peeta. I'm taking you home, alright?"

"Home," he repeating, his eyes drooping. Oh no, I think. He's going to pass out! I need him conscious, or else we might earn some suspicion. "Dad, Bannock, Rye…."

"Yes, Peeta. You're going to see your brothers and dad," I tell him annoyed. "Just help me out here and stop squirming around." It has been over 2 years that I have went to Peeta's house, or the Mellark bakery. I still remember the route, but the directions are still a bit hazy. I am about to turn left on an intersection when I realize that I shouldn't be going on main roads. Somebody will find us. So, I maneuver ourselves around, and try finding another route to his house. It's tough enough that it's nearly -15 degrees outside, but now with a drunk Peeta squirming around, I'm unsure if I'm able to reach our destination.

It's almost 9:30, an hour since I've been trying to find a route back home for Peeta. The roads are unfamiliar, the only thing that is guiding me is my natural instinct. Oh God, we're lost.

"Katnissss," he slurs. "Dad."

I shoot him a glare, but of course he wouldn't notice my annoyance. I don't need this right now. Maybe I should just dump Peeta here, I think to myself angrily. But that won't help my own situation either, because I have no idea where we are. The only thing I am able to do is try find a way to the Mellark's, or I will have to call my Dad to take us there.

I decide I will have to make one last attempt to find Peeta's house before I call my Dad. Dad would be so disappointed in him – Peeta will never be able it down. I can cause my ex-best friend embarrassment like that. And what if the school officials get involved? I feel this immense anger towards Peeta at the moment. It's his fault we are lost. It's his fault that he's drunk like this. I don't know why I had to get involved in this situation in the first place. Shit, I should've just called a school official so they can drag him home or something.

We take a left, and then, I recognize something. The Cartwright Sweet Shop! As kids, Peeta and I would rush across the street from his house to buy candies once every month, when we would get our allowance. "Katnisssss," Peeta says in a drunken haze. "Peppermints." Oh yes, Peeta's favorite candy was always peppermints. I liked cherry licorice. Peeta seems to have remembered those moments of our friendship.

Shaking my head, I tell myself that it is not time to relive these worthless memories. I remember that we would have to walk about 2 or 3 blocks to the candy shop from his house. But did we go left or right? I take a chance, and choose that it was left. So, I drag Peeta across the street when the road is clear. "Peppermints," he grunts. "Peppermints." And then, he lurches forward to the candy shop, but he has terrible balance and falls face first.

Swearing, I pull Peeta from the ground. Luckily, he's still conscious, but he has a cut over his eyebrow. I carefully wipe away the blood oozing from his wound, and then I have him lean against me for a while until he regains his energy. Soon, I pull him away from me, and I guide him forward. He's swaying back and forth, mumbling things that I am unable to depict. There are a couple of passerby, but none that I know. Or I hope none that Peeta knows. We cross a couple of blocks, and soon, there it is. Peeta's bakery. I am so relieved that I release a breath that I didn't know I was holding. But once Peeta recognizes his home, he goes hysterical.

"No, no, no!" he starts screaming. "No!"

I cover his mouth up, hoping that nobody heard him. "Shut up," I hiss. "Let me help you, for god's sake." Then, I drag him up the steps, but he keeps on resisting. He holds onto a pillar, preventing his body from moving towards the door. "Peeta, let go," I say, trying to stay calm. But he keeps on screaming and yelling, and muttering things that I cannot hear. And then he starts wailing and sobbing. Swearing underneath my breath, I keep on trying to force him on his feet. "Peeta, just stop. Get up!" I yell at him, reaching my breaking point.

Suddenly, the door whirls open. There stands a tall, thin, grey-haired, cold blue-eyed woman, who seems to be the much older version of Mrs. Mellark. She has really greyed out in the years. Although I have always disliked Mrs. Mellark for her sternness, I am quite relieved that she is here. Finally somebody can help me with Peeta, so I say, "Mrs. Mellark, I found Peeta at the schoolyard, and he seems in bad condition. I thought I should bring him back home."

Peeta, all the while, has become quiet. He does not say a word, but he continues swaying back and forth on the steps. Mrs. Mellark scowls at him, and then her gaze fixates at me. She narrows her eyes, and then scans me up and down. Judging me, perhaps. "Oh, yes. Katniss Everdeen, I believe?" she says coldly. "I'll take Peeta off your hands now." And then, she roughly takes his wrists, and pulls him from his feet. He yelps, hitting his shin, but she has no remorse. "Was he drinking again, Katniss?"

Suddenly, I'm afraid of Peeta. I knew that Mrs. Mellark was mean, and often degraded and embarrassed Peeta, but I never thought she was abusive. I hope she wouldn't hurt him. But it's not like Mr. Mellark would let her anyway – he will protect him. So there are no worries, right? "Yes, he was drinking," I mumble softly. The moment I say it, I instantly regret it. Her eyes lock with Peeta's in the fiercest way, lighting up her cold blue eyes and making her face a cherry red. Mrs. Mellark is angry. What will she do to him?

"Alright, thank you for bringing him to me, Katniss," she says icily. She pulls him inside the house, and shuts the door right in my face.

As I turn to leave, I ponder about what will happen to Peeta inside his home. Mrs. Mellark seems much crueler and colder from the last couple of years, but it's like she will hurt him. She wouldn't, right? I mean, Peeta is still her son. But I wonder if she knows about what he does at school. She already knew about his drinking problem, it seems.

I hear something crash inside the Mellark house. And then I hear a high-pitched scream. Heart beating rapidly against my chest, I take off in the opposite direction. I don't look back once.


	5. Where Were You?

**Hey guys! This chapter is a bit short, but I still wanted to update today. **

**As always, I own nothing.**

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_Where were you when everything was falling apart?_  
_All my days were spent by the telephone it never rang_  
_And all I needed was a call that never came_  
_To the corner of 1st and Amistad._

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Peeta didn't come to school yesterday.

I sit anxiously in second period, just hoping, _hoping_, that the door might open and Peeta would walk in with a yellow slip, indicating his late arrival. I hold onto my wishful thinking for nearly half an hour, until I finally stop repeatedly looking at the door. He's not coming, I tell myself. I don't know where he is, what's wrong with him, and why he's not here. I also don't know what happened a couple days, when Mrs. Mellark slammed the door at my face, and when the sounds of breaking glass and screams echoed in my ears. I don't know what lied in the hell before me during that time – in fact I was ignorant, sending Peeta away with the devil herself. As much as I told myself that Mrs. Mellark wouldn't hurt him, the more I become sure that she did. I was oblivious to the fact that Mrs. Mellark was capable of hurting an individual like Peeta.

The weather is colder than the days before. The storm clouds hang over the sky, threatening to release a blizzard – resonating with the lump in my throat and the blurriness of my eyes. It is dark, although it is only 3'o clock, imitating the emptiness and hopelessness within me. For the first time in a long time, I cannot find the light in the tunnel.

I cannot force a smile when Prim walks through the door, with a goofy grin on her face. Of course she's cheerful. She's always cheerful. In this cruel world, she still manages to smile. Or perhaps she's oblivious to the real world, thinking that the future lying ahead of her will be filled with happiness and joy. I'd like to give her a reality check, but I wish to remain her innocent. Innocence is a hard thing to find in this day and time.

"Hi Katniss," she exclaims, swinging her pink lunch bag to and fro.

"Hey," I respond forcibly. Then, I begin walking quickly, and motioning Prim to come along.

Even someone as small as Prim is able to recognize my foul mood. She begins asking a series of questions as she catches up to my long strides, like "what's wrong?" and "is it because I ate the last brownie yesterday?" I persistently shake my head, until I cannot be patient anymore. Stopping midway on the sidewalk, I turn to her sharply. "I'm fine, Prim," I seethe. And then, I turn away again, and continue walking.

It's not her fault that Peeta wasn't here today. It's not her fault that Peeta got hurt by his mother. It's not her fault that Peeta is not my friend anymore. It's no one's fault. There is only one person who is to blame. Me.

So, when we reach home, I don't bother taking off my shoes and greeting my parents. Instead, I take off upstairs, and rush into my room. Slamming the door, I melt against the wooden surface. I gather up my limbs, and curl up into a ball. Resting my head against my knees, I prepare for the tears to fall. Unfortunately, they don't. I cannot find comfort in letting go the pain with the release of the salty liquid…I cannot find comfort in anything. The only thing that makes the situation any bearable is that my parents are not calling me from the door, pleading for me to come out. I think they understand that I want to be alone, and that's what I'm most grateful for at this time.

And then I find another thing to be a grateful for. When I lift my head from my knees, my eyes catch the sight of snow beginning to fall. There are various types of the frozen droplets, from large flakes to tiny crystals. It seems that even the sky has let go now.

I think it's time for me too.

…

It's Wednesday, and I'm in physics class again. Crane looks at me pointedly when he calls Peeta's name, as if he knew that I had something to do with his absence. All I could do is focus my gaze onto my laces, in utter shame. Without me even saying it, and without people even knowing the full story, I think everybody knows it's my fault that he's not here. Not that they're unthankful, though. The class is loud, full of life with constant chatter and an occasional guffaw from Brutus.

And then, the class suddenly quiets. It seems as most of the students spoke too soon. Peeta is here.

The door opens to reveal him. He walks in wordlessly, quietly. I can't even hear his feet hit the ground, which is strange because you can always tell he's walking even if you're miles away from him. Anyway, Peeta seems to be in the same condition as he was before his "waddling out drunkenly, and swearing and mutter obscenities under his breath" incident. The only thing that seems different about him is the tone of his skin. He is paler from before, looking weak and tired. But I can't spot any bruises or cuts on his hands, neck or face, so I figure that he's fine after all. Maybe he wasn't here yesterday, or the day before that, because he was still recovering from a hangover. But …why would it take him 48 hours to do that? Either way, it doesn't seem like he got beaten up by Mrs. Mellark, so I suppose things are fine again.

Peeta walks slowly to Mr. Crane, and mutters something to him that I can't decipher. Crane nods, and then Peeta takes his seat. The class resumes, except its much quiet from before. But it doesn't matter, I suppose. Peeta is here, and in good condition, so everything is fine.

At lunch, I walk straight to the library. I want to finish up my English homework before Peeta comes for his lesson. I begin rushing through the quotation analysis questions on Macbeth, not giving my answers a second glance once I scribble a dot at the end of my sentences. English has always been the most tedious subject for me. I prefer mathematics any day.

So once I'm done, I throw my binder inside my backpack, and gulp down the water from my bottle. Snapping the led shut after I satisfied my thirst, I lean down to place the bottle at my feet. Once I rise again, I find Peeta walking towards me. So he is here today, I think to myself. I haven't expected him to come, but then again, he might want to improve his marks and study for that physics test on Monday.

Peeta's eyes are on the floor, and his bag is hung over his right shoulder. He sits down in front me, without a word. He doesn't remove his backpack, he just simply sits still. Without thinking, I blurt out, "Are you okay?"

His eyes meet mine for a second, his blue eyes turning dark. He locks his gaze on me, and says gruffly, "Yes."

Suddenly, I feel anxious again. "Where were you?" I ask him worriedly, without a care if he is offended by the question or not.

He grunts. "I'm here to learn physics from you, not to have a stupid conversation."

He's right.

Clearing my throat, as if to signal that I'm changing the topic, I take out my textbook and our notes. We continue our review sheet we were completing the other day, with me explaining the concepts and Peeta simply nodding here and there. At one point, I think he's just nodding to finish the lesson so he could leave. But when I ask him to explain how to calculate energy, he is able to answer correctly. Huh, I actually have underestimated him. By the end of the lunch period, we are packing up our stuff, and I ask him, "Are you ready for the test next week?"

Peeta shrugs.

"Seriously, Peeta," I state, locking my eyes with him. "I don't want our session to go to waste."

He proceeds to rub the back of his shoulder, his cotton shirt shifting slightly to the left. And that is when my eyes find a large, purple bruise on his skin. Instinctively, I reach over, and pull his shirt over his shoulder. Peeta stills. The bruise is covering the whole mass of his broad left shoulder. Carefully running my fingers against his skin, I stumble out, "She hit you."

That is when Peeta returns to his old self. He pushes me away from him, and stumbles backwards. "No one hit me!" he tells me angrily. "No one!"

I know he's lying. I now have proof that Peeta is being abused at home. "Stop it, Peeta," I hiss under my breath, suddenly aware that we are in the library. I walk closer to him, and tell him fervently, "I'm only trying to help you."

"You're not helping me!" he cries, picking up his bag and throwing it over his left shoulder. Suddenly, he whimpers, and drops the bag on the floor, grasping his shoulder as he squeezing his eyes shut in pain. My heart immediately falls at the sight of Peeta like this. It feels like I've been given a blow to the stomach. I gasp for air as I try to hold back the tears. "Just leave me!"

I walk slowly, as if I would towards a wounded animal. "Let me help you," I plead, taking his arm.

Suddenly, Peeta's angry eyes turn normal again. It seems as if I'm looking at the 16 year old Peeta again. His eyes are large, innocent, clear, and bright. But they are not bright with happiness, no. They are actually glassy. Glassy with tears. His lip quivers as he whispers, "Then where were you?"


	6. Blame

**Hi guys!**

**Thank you all so much for the reviews, favorites, and follows! I have never expected to earn this much recognition for my work, so it is honestly like a dream come true! You guys are truly motivating me to continue writing - and considering my profile, this is the only story I am often updating. I have worked really hard in this fic, and I will continue to do so in the chapters to come. Please feel free to continue reviewing, favoriting, and following. It is seriously motivating me to write, I mean, I have exams next week but I'm still writing for you guys xD Love you all! Just wanted to make sure that your help has not gone under appreciated!**

**Alright, back to the story. I have another angsty chapter for you guys - and it might seem that this story is moving quickly,but trust me, there is much more to come. I'm only setting up the tension and the angst for future chapters, which you guys will see later on as the story progresses. I know you guys are probably eager to hear about Peeta's story, but I'm not going to spoil it for you guys yet - although some of you might already have a hunch of what happened to him (****_hint: it's not only the child abuse) _****;). Oh, and those who are following my other story, "Play it Again"...I'm sorry it has been over 7 months since I have last updated. I have not given up on it, life just got in the way and I got really busy. And I just really wanted to focus on this story right now. However, I already have a chapter ready for you guys, and I'll be sure to update by Sunday.**

**Wow, I've written an annoucement much longer than I originally intended it to! Now, go along! Read! :) **

**As always, review, favorite and follow!**

***I own nothing***

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Confused, I step back from him. "What do you mean?" I ask, watching him carefully.

He blinks the tears away, and shakes his head. "Nothing. I'm going to class now."

He begins to walk away from me, but I take his hand, preventing him from leaving me. I need to know what is happening to Peeta. He has been avoiding me for all this years, and I'm not going to let him go now. "No, stay Peeta. What did you mean?"

Peeta turns sharply towards me, locking his eyes with my own. His eyes are full of fire. He throws my hand away from his, and states angrily, "It's nothing."

"It is something!" I tell him pleadingly. "Or else you wouldn't have said it in the first place."

"It shouldn't matter to you," he spits. "So you finally came crawling back to me after all these years, huh? Where were you for all this time?"

I have honestly no idea what he's talking about. I watch as his irises darkens as they lock on my face, and his cheeks reddening. "I was always here," I reply carefully. "I should be asking you this question instead. You're the one who started to avoid me in the tenth grade."

"Did you ever wonder why I avoided you? Did you ever wonder why I came to school beaten into a pulp? Did you ever wonder why I started doing all this crap?" he sneers, gripping his fists tightly into balls. For a second I think he's going to punch me, but he wouldn't do that. I know that the 16-year old Peeta is still inside of him - deep, _deep_ inside.

But that isn't the issue right now. "Of course I always used to wonder," I fire back, trying to seem sure of myself. But it is true, I suppose. His bruises that appeared time to time did seem suspicious, and couldn't possibly be formed by play fighting with his brothers.

It is as if the events are beginning to flash back into my mind. I remember Peeta coming to school on the first day of tenth grade, eyes sullen and pale face. I was furious that Peeta wasn't picking up my calls over the summer, and he wouldn't open his door whenever I used to come to his house. So I haven't had any contact with him for months. So I avoided him, yeah. But that was because he avoided me during the summer, making it clear we were not friends anymore. We hadn't talked for months. I had taken note of his body beginning to frail, the paling of his skin, the dark circles under his eyes, his lack of social life, the constant fights he was in, the cigarettes between his teeth…

"Then why didn't you do anything about it?" he cries, suddenly taking his head into his hands. "Why did you just watch by as I fell apart?" Then, he drops to the floor, sobbing. My heart drops at the sight of him in such a fatal position, knowing fully well that there is nothing for me to do to comfort him. It is the first time I have ever seen Peeta cry, especially in a public setting. Guilt throbs in my throat, perhaps feeling as if I were the reason for his tears.

No – it's not _perhaps_. Of _course_ it is. I am at fault, utterly and truly. _I_ am the reason for his tears.

So, I drop to the floor along with him, and try to pick him up from the ground. At first, he swats my arm away from him, but one thing I can take pride in is my persistence. I no longer care that the library is now quiet, and everybody is looking at us. I don't care if we look ridiculous on the floor like this. Peeta needs me, and this time, I will be there for him. So, pick him up from the ground, taking both of his calloused, dry, and large hands with my own. I realize that's he's cold. Rubbing his palms as if it help circulate the warmth around his hands, I whisper, "I'm here now, Peeta."

Peeta covers his face with is hands, and says wetly, "Just get away from me."

"No, I won't," I reply fiercely. "I can't."

Suddenly, a voice calls from above. "Are you kids are okay?" a stern woman asks.

Tilting my head upwards, I meet eyes with a grey-haired, cold blue-eyed woman with permanent scowl plastered on her face. I tell her impatiently, "We're fine." Peeta has stopped sobbing, but he' still on the floor, and covering his face. I don't want to make a big scene in the library, not like we haven't already.

"Students have reported a lot of noise here. Please take your situation outside of the library. This is a quiet – zone," she states firmly. She points to the exit, and then with her other hand she signals us to get out.

"We're going, we're going," I mumble, trying to help Peeta up from the floor. I take both of our bags and sling them over one of my shoulders, and take Peeta's arm with my other hand to support him. He hands his head to the floor wordlessly. He seems so frail and hopeless, and no matter what I do, I won't make his situation –whatever it is–better. There is always a reason why people act the way the act, Dad would say. He explained to me when I was young that my late uncle, Haymitch, would have to drink away the pain after the loss of my aunt. I never understood it at that time, but now I can realize why people would choose to be drunk instead of sober. You become numb of feelings, outside of reality, without a care in the world. So I know that there has to be reason the way he's acting now. Maybe he's drinking away the pain because he's being abused at home? Possibly. But there are too many grey areas. His father would always step up when Mrs. Mellark insulted or embarrassed him, so there is no doubt he would intervene if he's abusing him. But at the same time, Peeta does cover up the bruises pretty well, it seems that Mrs. Mellark always hits the spots where they won't be exposed. However, Peeta has become accustomed to the abuse –although it was only verbal and emotional before- so he wouldn't be suddenly acting up like this unless there is another reason.

Whatever it may be; the only thing I am sure of in this situation is that Peeta is crying because he's all alone – and I'm the reason for it.

Once I lead him out the door, and the librarian finally removing her hawk-eyes away from us, I lead him to the school exit. I figured that Peeta would like time to be alone now, and he's in no shape to go to the next class. I don't mind I'm skipping biology with Mr Heavensbee, I have always had perfect attendance before. She wouldn't mind too much that I didn't come to class that one time. And besides, Peeta needs me now.

The cold air hits our faces the moment we open the door. The November chill is signalling that winter is to come soon, but we don't care we are without jackets. However, the coldness sending shivers all over my body is not the problem. Kicking the dead leaves as we made our way to an isolated old tree, I think to myself of what I'm going to say to Peeta. There is nothing else to do except to ask what has been happening to him for all these years. I lean against the metal fence, as I watch Peeta stare down at his shoes.

Peeta is the first to talk. "Why did you bring me here?"

I reply smoothly, "I want to help you, that's why."

"You weren't helping me before, especially when I needed it," he says, but his voice is not laced with anger. He's speaking as if he's presenting a report – factually. Yes, it is a fact that I ditched him for all these years. And I have no excuse but to counter that he was avoided me first.

"I don't want to argue, Peeta," I say exhaling. "You're still my friend."

Peeta locks his gaze with mine, eyes still glassy with tears. His cheeks are red with the cold, and the tears are stained on his face. "We're not friends," he states. "You're simply my tutor."

Although it may be freezing, I'm suddenly feeling warm. My blood boils at his response. "As that all I am to you? A tutor?"

"That is the reason why you started to talk to me, yeah?" he responds defensively. "Would you begin talking to me if Crane didn't force you to teach me physics?"

"I didn't know anything that anything was wrong with you," I lie between my teeth. "You never told me. I figured that you didn't want to be my friend anymore in the summer before grade 10."

Peeta looks away, and doesn't respond. We are standing in the cold in silence, the only thing filling the air is the sound of the American flag whipping in the wind. My gaze drops from the flag until I hear a shoes crunching. Eyes meeting Peeta' figure walking away from me, I have nothing else to do but stare as he becomes smaller and smaller off in the distance.

Looking at my watch, I realize that there is still over an hour and thirty minutes left of school. I decide I might as well attend biology class.

The rest of the day goes by like a blur. I don't even realize that the bell rings until I hear the screeches of the chairs grinding against the tiled floor. Everybody rushes out of the door, shouting obscenities and laughing on crude jokes. I am the only one left in the class, scrambling to pack up my things. My biology teacher, Mr. Heavensbee, watches me intently as I throw n my textbook, but I pretend as if I don't notice him. It is not until he clears his throat when I look up to find him, looking at me quite skeptically. I lock my eyes at him momentarily, until he says gruffly, "Miss Everdeen, I'd like to speak with you."

Nodding, I sling my backpack over my shoulder, and walk over to him. "Yes sir?"

"There has been some talk that you have been involved with Mr. Peeta Mellark, is that right, Miss Everdeen.

Staring at him wide-eyed, I stumble out, "Yeah, I'm his tutor."

"You know that's not what I meant," he states. "Your physics teacher, Mr. Crane, has already told me that you were helping Peeta with his studies. But that isn't what I'm concerned about."

My palms sweating, and legs shaking, I still try to control my voice and compose myself. "Then what is the problem, sir? I'm simply trying to help him," I say impatiently.

"I'm not blaming you of anything," he says defensively. "No, no. Not at all. I'm more worried about Peeta than anything else."

That's even _worse_ than I thought before. Do the teachers know about Peeta's wrong-doings? Or worse yet, do they know about what's happening to him at home? Instead, I ask him, almost as if trying to avoid the question, "You don't know Peeta."

Heavensbee raises his eyebrow, his brown eyes twinkling knowingly. That is when I know that he knows. "Miss Everdeen, he's in my period one class. I do know very well, perhaps more than what you would know of him."

"Then why am I here?" I snap. "I have to pick up my sister, sir. I must go now." So then, I prepare to take off in the opposite direction, until he halts me.

"Katniss, wait," he says, voice booming across the room. "Mrs. Coin, the guidance counsellar,has saw both of you in the library. She said Peeta was not in a good shape. We have seen bruises and cuts all over him previously, and his dropping grades and lack of mannerism prove that something is indeed wrong with him. All I would like you to do is to help us help Peeta." So Coin was that stern, hawk-eyed woman who told us to get out of the library. And now. all of them, are involved with Peeta's situation - the situation I'm not even sure of what it is about.

"There's nothing wrong with him!" I say quickly, turning around to face him. "Nothing!"

"Everdeen, please lower your voice," he says cooly. "Mr. Crane, Mrs. Coin and I are involved in Peeta's situation to help him. We are not doing anything to harm him. Instead, we are preventing the harm. You, of all people, have seen his injuries. You know that they are not simply 'wresting accidents'."

That is when the guilt hits me at full force. The blame is undying, overwhelming. It is something I have never felt before. I am, certainly, at fault. I have not felt such pain, in any context, since Uncle Haymitch died. But this pain is something else than sadness - it is the pain knowing that you could've prevented the tragedy only if you had the courage to do so. So I am, utimately, at fault. My indecision hours ago has become clear. There are no doubts anymore.

My gaze fixating on my shoes, I ask, "What do I need to do?"


	7. Courage

**Hi guys!**

**I'm sorry I haven't been updating for a while. Life became hectic with exams and all, so I wasn't able to upload a new chapter. I appreciate how all of you guys stuck by me, despite that I've been away for such a long time. I know I promised earlier that I won't keep you waiting for a week, so now I must redeem myself and continue with this vow. Thank you all for the lovely comments, and all the favorites and follows! I cannot put into words how grateful I am for all the positivity I have been receiving :) And so, here is a new chapter! This is my lengthiest chapter yet - which is to thank you guys for being so patient! Love you all!**

**\- I own nothing -**

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It is simple. All I have to do is report to the school officials if I have any hints of Peeta's abuse - like a real friend would. If I were a real friend, I would tell Mr. Heavensbee about Peeta's bruises and scars the moment he told me the task. Instead, I bit my tongue and stared at his shiny, black dress shoes. I'd like to think that I am Peeta's friend, and that I genuinely do care, but my hesitance to save him from further abuse is contradicting that. Am I really a friend? Mom, and especially Dad, would be immensely disappointed in me if they were to hear of my antics. After all, I am the only one who knows about Peeta's situation, and thus I am the only one who can save him. If only I had the courage to speak up. If only I had the courage to protect him. If only I had the courage to be the change I always dreamt of.

But I don't.

The physics test is around the corner - only three days away. I am kind of nervous for Peeta, who only knows a quarter of the concepts we learnt in this unit. He's already at a 48% in physics, and if he flunks another test...I'm unsure if he'll get the credit. However, the good thing is that Peeta catches on quick. If we focus a quarter of the unit per day, we will perhaps be able to finish the unit review before the exam. Maybe then Peeta will be prepared, and if he does well enough, it could boost up his average by a couple of percents. At the same time, this plan may be turn out to be an entire disaster if Peeta doesn't have the motivation to do well. And to be honest, I don't even think he has it. I don't even think he is going to attend school today because of the last time we we spoken...wasn't a very civil conversation.

At lunch, I'm waiting at the same table we always sit for our study sessions in the library. I still hang on to my hope that my student will come today, although the chances are slim to none. I am about to leave after the ten minute mark, until I see a hint Peeta's black jacket he always seems to wear. I exhale a breath I didn't realize I was holding, and say, "You're here", when I'm only a few meters away from him. It is obvious that I haven't expected him to not show up after our last encounter, especially since it seems whenever we speak we leave on a bad note. This time it was another level, though. We have never spoken about our feelings before, and I think after yesterday we won't ever again. It will leave us in tears and rasp, dry throats. I think it is better we just stick with the student - tutor relationship from now on. I watch him carefully though. This boy still has my heart. I still do care for him, and I don't think he will ever leave my mind. It doesn't matter that he is looking scruffy, tired and worn down. To me, he is still the kind and generous boy I have met in kindergarten. His ashy blond hair still falls over his forehead, and he still has to shake his head slightly to the side to move the tendrils from irritating his blue eyes. Yes, he may have changed over the years. He is skinnier than before, like he hasn't eaten in days, but that doesn't matter. Peeta is still Peeta. And today, I finally am able to see that he may resume to his old self, especially now that a scowl isn't plastered on his face like usual. It is a nice sight to see.

Suddenly, I realize I have been staring at him for too long when he shifts awkwardly on his thin legs. "Well, I have to be, don't I?" he mutters when I make brief eye contact with him. He is slinging his backpack over his left shoulder. The bruise on the other shoulder must still hurt, I think. I still wonder what that witch must've hit Peeta with that caused so much damage to him. Must have been nothing less than a bulldozer.

Clearing my throat, and averting my gaze, I ask him hoarsely, "Are you ready for the test?" Leaning over to my side, I unzip my backpack and take out my books. I realize my hands are shaking as I take out a pencil from my pencil case. Nervously, I clasp my hands together on my lap. Digging my nails into my skin, I try to control a cry from escaping my lips. That bruise is because of _me_. I'm the one who forced Peeta back into that hellhole. The guilt is undying, overwhelming. Tears begin to prickle in my eyes. There is no way for me to hide the fact I am the one to blame now. I have to accept the fact I could've prevented this abuse. Oh, if only I had the courage to do so...

The only thing that averts my daze is the sound of his voice. "Somewhat," he says, who does not seem the least bit faltered of my little sitting down on the plastic chair across from me. "Kind of confused on chapter 3 though. The other chapters don't make sense either because I don't understand Newton's law."

I'm sort of surprised that he admitted what he is struggling in. Maybe I was wrong. Peeta does care about his grades, or at least had a bit of interest on improving them. "Well, then. We'll start on Newton's law."

Peeta listens intently as I speak about Newton's Law. At times I am so engrossed in his crystal blues that I lose track of my thought. It's only when he raises his eyebrow that I clear my throat and continue the lesson. He nods occasionally, confirming his understanding of the concepts. He even raises a well-thought question - a question that takes me awhile to answer. I think it would only be decent for me to admit that Peeta is, indeed, intelligent. We were able to finish a unit within 40 minutes, and for the rest of the period we begin on the next unit.

Cracking my knuckles, I ask, "So do you understand everything?"

Peeta makes eye contact with me, and holds it for a good 10 seconds. He runs his fingers through his golden locks and says quietly, "Yeah."

"Need me to confirm anything?" I question as I throw in my materials in my backpack.

He shakes his head. "Thanks, but I think I understand everything." We sit on our seats for awhile. The awkward tension in the atmosphere is overwhelming. I have an urge to break it, but I'm unsure how. Luckily. I won't have to because Peeta does instead. He says,"I'm sorry for my behavior for the past couple of -"

"It's fine, Peeta," I tell him impulsively, placing my hand in front of him to mute the boy. I don't want to remember the incidents from before. I don't want to remember about how I pushed him away. I don't want to remember how he got that purple, plum-sized bruise on his cheek...

Peeta groans, and swats my hand away gently from his face. He then locks his gaze intensely, not angrily, full of passion and trustworthiness. "No, listen to me,"he says before inhaling deeply. He closes his eyes, and then exhales. "I'm sorry I keep on treating you so poorly. Really, I am. I'm also sorry how I blamed you for...things you have no control over. I've been a terrible jerk lately, but I do recognize you've been trying to help me for awhile. I keep thinking bad of your good intentions, but I just want to remind you that I appreciate everything you're doing for me."

My head is whirling with memories, feelings, and emotions. I cannot decipher anything in the storm of my mind. I feel like I'm spinning, _spinning_, into oblivion, so I have to clutch onto the metal table for support. I'm going to fall. It's not until I hear Peeta calling my name that I snap out of it. "Peeta," I gasp and breathing heavily. It feels as if I've finally consumed air after drowning in an ocean for a very long time. Suddenly, I realize my eyes have been closed, so I immediately open them. I become aware that the blue-eyed, curly-haired boy is only a few inches away from my face, looking at me worriedly. I lean backwards against my chair, where I finally see that it's not only him that is concerned, but many others in the library. There are a few kids, a table away from us, looking with faces full of concern. Some librarians have popped up from their little desks to watch us intently. They must think we are probably the most oddest students in the school. Which, I think, we probably are.

"Peeta," I repeat after awhile. "I kind of blanked out. I'm okay though." He still looks at me worriedly, but I shake my head vigorously. "Look, Peeta. I'm your friend. I don't care about the past, and I'll still stick by you no matter what. It's not only you who has been a terrible friend...We're friends now, right?"

He doesn't say anything, but I find his hands clasping together on the table. Instinctively, I reach for them. Holding his cold, large hands with my smaller ones, I try to comfort him as his gaze focuses on our entwined fingers. Squeezing his hands, I say to him softly, "We're friends." He doesn't respond for awhile. I'm not sure how long we've been like this for. Was it a minute? Was it ten minutes? Was it an _hour_? I don't know. It doesn't matter. Because he eventually squeezes back.

"Friends," he states. He looks up at me innocently, with those big blue eyes that remained the same since we were four. I have not appreciated its beauty until now. He may be skinnier. He may be beaten up. Hell, he may have those dark circles under his eyes. But who cares? Underneath all those imperfections, I see the true, innocent Peeta, who has suffered through more tragedies and abuse he deserved. He will suffer no more, though. I'll protect him for as long as I am capable.

I retract my hands from his once I find a familiar blond walk past us. It's Madge. I immediately feel remorseful, because I have been undoubtedly ditching her for nearly two weeks. She still has that small smile plastered on her face whenever I greet her, but I understand that she may be a tad upset with me. I'm the only friend she has, anyway. However, despite that I've been ignoring her lately, she walks over to us. Her blond hair is in a braid over her shoulder, and she wears a pair of black pants with sheer white blouse. Tucking her hands into her pockets, she says, "Hey Katniss." She looks over to Peeta, but her smile doesn't falter. "Hi Peeta." Peeta returns the greeting softly as Madge tucks a loose strand of hair behind her ear. "It's been awhile, hasn't it Peeta?"

He nods hesitantly. "Yes, it has." After a pause, he continues, "How are you doing, Madge?"

"Not bad," she says. While Peeta looks at his hands again, she shoots me a look. She then turns back to Peeta, and asks, "And you?

I cringe at the question. However, Peeta stills replies, "Alright."

"That's good," she says. "Anyway, Katniss. I need you to look over my chemistry lab after school."

Madge doesn't have chemistry this semester. But she wouldn't be lying to me without a reason. "Okay," I respond. "No problem. I'll meet you at your locker." I bite my lip, trying to restrain myself from raising a question that shouldn't be risen at the moment. Madge still looks at me intently, and I try thinking what she might want to say to me at the moment. I suppose that I'll simply have to wait until after school. It must be serious, because Madge only speaks when it's necessary.

The bell rings, cutting out conversation short. Madge waves, and scurries off to the exit. Peeta and I are left scrambling to place our materials into our bags. "You have to go to the second floor, right?" Peeta nods. "Okay, let's walk together." With Peeta on my side, push the moving bodies away from us as we make our way through the library. Once the students are dispersed in the atrium, we are able to breathe. I take the time to make a decision. After some thought, I finally say to him, "I think we should met up after school. You know, to revise for the test."

Peeta turns his head, and raises his eyebrow.

I repeat myself again, louder so he can hear me over all the commotion and noise in the atrium. We keep moving, but I watch as his eyes widen in bewilderment. He opens his mouth, but I quickly say loudly, "We can do it at my house. Or at the library."

Peeta stops midday into his step.

"Hey, get moving!" someone calls behind him. I quickly take his hand, and tug him towards the steps. With the sweaty bodies pressing against our own, we carefully make our way up the steps.

The pungent smell of vinegar fills the stairway, and I'm almost distracted by it until Peeta replies aloud, "No, I'm busy."

"It will only take an hour or so," I insist, leaning into him so he can hear me. "I want you to be thoroughly ready for the test."

Once we are up the steps, we walk with the swarm towards the science hallway. My heart beats fast as I wait for his response. I only have a couple of seconds to persuade him. And we are continuously pushed around because of the large population of students in our school. I keep my eyes on Peeta so I won't lose him. I groan as I watch Cato Hedley and Marvel Woods fight in the middle of the hallway, blocking us. Peeta still sticks by my side, and nears into my ear. He replies, "I really can't, Katniss."

"Yes, you can. Do you have anything more important to do, Peeta?" I question immediately.

Peeta doesn't reply for awhile. Soon, he stops at his classroom, and leans against the lockers beside the door. "Okay, at Central library," he says, turning to me. "At 6."

Smiling inwardly, I try responding the least eagerly as possible, "Great. I'll see you then."

When I walk in to English class, Miss Trinket says, "Why, Katniss! I've never seen you in such high spirits before!" Usually, I would scowl with those kind of remarks, but I allow myself to grin just once.

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**Yes! Some Everlark progress! :) Remember to review, favorite, and follow!**


	8. Fall

**-I own nothing-**

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I wait by Madge's locker, hoping that I will find the blond in the swarm of students in the hall. I contemplate if I should leave, because Prim is waiting for me outside and she doesn't know that I'll be late. Luckily, I soon spot the petite girl squirming through the bodies, and reaching towards her locker. Tucking a strand of loose hair behind her ear, she says, "Sorry. You know how narrow these halls are."

I nod, accepting her apology. "So, why am I here?" I ask bluntly, without thinking twice of my word choice.

Fortunately, Madge has learnt not too take my bitter persona to the heart. She knows that I'm not the most welcoming person, and I believe that she doesn't mind too much. That's why she is one of my only friends, perhaps my only friend. I can rely on her that she won't judge or ridicule me, like the rest of the people in this hellhole. "Well, I'm concerned about you. There has been talk lately, Katniss. Ever since you started spending more time with Peeta."

Confused, I take a step back. "What do you mean?" I ask, because I honestly have no idea what she is talking about. "I'm just tutoring him."

"_I_ know that," Madge says, and then says more quietly, "But _they_ don't."

"Can you please stop talking to me in cryptic messages?" I snap. "Tell me what's the problem, for god's sake."

Madge leans into me, and whispers quickly in my ear, "You know how classes work here, Katniss. Students are gossiping that you and Peeta are dating, and you know how people are like."

My family is upper-middle class. We're not extremely rich, like Madge's family, but we're as close as we can get. After my grandfather passed away, his will stated that my father could take all of his income, since Dad is his only son. We are well-off, compared to Peeta's family. The Mellark family own a small bakery, and from what I have seen, they are not making much income. I remember Mom telling Dad one day that Mr. Mellark was in debt, and he will have to sell his family bakery soon. Fortunately, the bakery is still here...but I don't see a lot of customers coming in. Either way, Peeta's family is struggling, and we're not. In this small town of Mayfield, not a lot of people like that kind of prospect, and with the idea of Peeta and I dating is making things worse. Mom, Dad, and Mr. Mellark (excluding the other Mellarks) had no problem with our friendship. We often had dinners together, and sometimes sleepovers - but only if Mrs. Mellark wasn't around. Mrs. Mellark always had the sharp look in her eyes whenever she would see me. I am no stranger that she dislikes me. However, Mrs. Mellark always used to (poorly) cover her disgust of us with a fake smile plastered on her face. At the same time, I suppose it's wrong for me to interpret things about the Mellark familiy, especially when Mrs. Mellark had never spoken an ill word in my direction. I sigh, and mutter, "But we're not dating."

Surely Madge knows this, and she says, "I don't care if you are or not. They are saying really bad stuff about Peeta, which I don't want to talk about."

Furrowing my eyebrows, I look towards the ground. What must the entire school be talking about us at the moment? "Madge, do you think the same? You don't believe in that gossip, do you?"

Closing her locker shut, and then locking it, she says, "Of course not. Peeta is a big jerk now, and I don't know why you still want to be friends with him. But, there might be a piece of his old self under his hard exterior."

I nod, biting my lower lip.

"Do you know what happened to him, Katniss?" Madge asks in a hushed tone. Her blue eyes lock with my own, as if she's trying to search for something. Madge is bright. She can easily pick out a lie. She can also read me like a book, although I don't think she even knows my favorite color. There's no point in lying now.

"He's hurt, Madge," I say to her quietly. "He's not a bad person. Bad things just happened to him. I don't know what they are, though, but I still want to help him in any way that I can."

Madge looks at me for awhile. Her face does not reveal any emotion. A few moments later, she tips her head. "I'll get going. Prim must be waiting for you."

Cursing under my breath, I glance at my watch. Shit. I'm ten minutes late. Oh God, I hope she's with the Hawthornes at least. Turning on my heel, without bothering to say goodbye, I sprint to the doors. I push the them open, the cold air suddenly hitting my face. Shivering, I quickly glance towards my right and left. She's not here, so he must be at the main entrance. I rush around the school, without a care that people will watch as my hair whips against my face. Al the while, I hope to God that Gale or the other Hawthornes are taking care of her.

As always, my judgement in Gale never fades. He's there, back facing me while speaking to a very worried Prim. Once she notices me, a smile stretches across her face. "I'm so sorry Prim," I tell her as I gasp for air. "I had to do something quick and I lost track of time." Leaning against the bricks, I nod quickly to Gale in thanks.

Gale, rolling his eyes, "You're lucky I found her waiting in the cold, against that big old maple tree, before I went home. You're like twenty minutes late, Katniss."

I scowl towards Gale, but I immediately become ashamed. Prim was waiting for nearly twenty minutes in this bitter cold. What if Gale didn't see her? "Yeah, I know. Thanks."

Prim is looking quite sheepish when I meet eyes with her. She kicks a couple of pebbles with her shoes, and watches as they roll away. Swinging her bag slightly, she says. "You guys keep forgetting that I'm nearly fourteen now. I can get back home by myself. Neither of you have to babysit me." Tucking a curl behind her ear, she glances between both of us. It's true. We are too overprotective of the kids. But it's always for a good reason, because there are pretty messed up kids in this school - and they are capable of harming Prim. "By the way, why do you guys let Rory walk home alone but not me?" I exchange looks with Gale. It's quite obvious Rory is much more threatening compare to Prim, and even I am unable to overpower the Hawthorne boy. Rory is mountainous and muscular, even at the ripe age of thirteen. He inherited the Hawthorne genes, of course. Prim, however, is too innocent and gentle. She cannot even hurt a fly. Let alone be able to defend herself.

Gale simply smiles at her, and ruffles her hair. "Let's get going, kid." We start walking down the sidewalk in a comfortable silence. Gale and I are childhood friends. The one I could always depend on. He's like the brother I never had. Our families would often to joke that we'll be dating soon, but Gale and I would always look away in awkward silence. There's nothing romantic between us. I was never one for dating, and Gale...let's say he has quite of a reputation with the ladies. By the way, I bet he has a crush on Madge, although he'll never admit it. I've already seen enough of those blushed faces every time they see each other, and the awkward tension between them every time we sit together at lunch. Sometimes, I wish I could just push Gale into Madge and command him to admit his feelings for her. It's getting almost as annoying as the Prim/Rory thing.

"Katniss, what are you doing at lunch with that Mellark kid?" Gale asks suddenly. I stop in my tracks, staring at him in bewilderment. How does he know about us? Not that it matters, though. But, the way he got this information is almost frightening. Madge was right - there is some talk about Peeta and I.

Trying to maintain composure, I tell him evenly, "Tutoring him physics."

Gale shoots me a look. "I don't trust that kid. Do you even know what he's involved in?"

I shrug. Yeah, he smokes and drinks - but almost everyone in our school does. "Even you drink, Gale. Don't you dare say that Delly's party didn't happen, especially when I had to pick your drunk ass up from getting towed down in the snow."

It is not until Prim giggles that I realize she has been listening to our conversation. Luckily, before Prim is able to open her mouth, Gale grumbles, "That was only _once. _And you promised me that you won't mention it anybody." Gale glances towards Prim, and then looks down to his loafers. 'And by the way, I really don't think you should be involved with Mellark. He's really screwed up."

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At 6, I walk to Central library with my backpack slinging over my shoulder. Dad said that he would drive me to the library, but I refused. Dad knew that there would be no way to persuade me otherwise, due to my stubborn behavior. Instead, he scowled at me disapprovingly, and threw a winter hat in my direction wordlessly. I knew from the beggining that walking to the library in this weather is digging my own grave - but some walks you have to take alone, I suppose. I didn't even tell Mom that I would be walking, because she wouldn't even let me step out of the house. That is one thing that really differentiates Mom and Dad. I love the both equally, but Dad understands me much more - and he knows his boundaries. By the way, I'm pretty sure Mom knows by now where I have gone, so I'm just waiting until my phones blares up her name on the screen.

The snow blinds my vision, and I am unable to see where the library is. Stuffing my hands into my pockets, I try to retain the warmth in my fingers from the biting cold. Maybe I should have took those gloves waiting by my dresser. I was running late though, and I didn't want to keep Peeta waiting. It doesn't matter now though - Peeta probably didn't even bother leaving his house for this hell of a snowstorm. But I wouldn't be able to confirm this unless I don't see the boy in the library. So I'll simply have to continue walking in this terrible weather. On a regular day it would only take me 10 minutes to the library - but now 20 minutes already flew by and the library is not in my sight. It's not until a sudden gush of wind hits my face when I finally wish I took up Dad's offer. And to mention the cold - I have never felt this intense numbness in each part of my body before. Cursing underneath my breath, I wish I had never told Peeta that we should meet up.

After awhile, I fortunately get a glimpse of Sae's Diner, indicating that the library is just around the corner. Although I cannot see myself, I'm pretty sure that the smile etched on my face has turned into a grimace, because the moment I stretch my lips they crack. Puckering my lips, trying to moisturize them, I turn right. But once my feet hit the ground, I suddenly feel a sharp pain run up my leg. Slipping on a mass of ice, I collapse into a snow bank. It's almost ironic how my quick, stealthy, and agile reputation has waned in a matter of milliseconds. At the back of my head, I pray that no one has seen my pathetic fall. However, the moment I try pulling myself up from the snow, I realize that someone seeing my fall is the least of my worries. The pain is excruciating and overwhelming - nothing I have ever felt before. I breathe heavily as I try to calm myself, but...I _can't._ I try to prop myself up with my elbow, and pull myself up. The moment I shift my leg, another wave of pain rushes through my entire body. This time, I cannot contain a loud cry bubbling up my throat. My throat dry and heart my thudding against my chest. I realize that I am unable to get up from the ground. But my perseverance never fades - even though I know that my attempts will be of waste. Cursing as an agonizing throb overwhelms my ankle, I reach for my bag - which has my phone in it - a few feet away. I whimper as I try to reach further and further towards my bag, but my arms are not long enough to grab the strap flying in the wind. Mom and Dad will never find me in this terrible weather. I will end up freezing to death, and I have no way to contact anybody.

I lay face down on the snow for awhile, feeling the coldness seeping underneath my clothes. A few seconds later, I roll myself over, so I'm resting on my back. Looking up at the dark sky, I wonder what I should do. Should I scream? Nobody would hear me in these strong winds. Maybe I should drag myself back home. Or maybe I should drag myself to Sae's Diner...

It's only 10 meters - but I have to exert myself so intensely to the point I question if I should simply fall back into the snow bank. I'm nearly half way there, and I can make it - but the pain in my ankle is disagreeing with me. It feels like my foot caught on fire, although I'm numb everywhere else because of the cold. I try to pulling myself further, and further. My palms have a few cuts because of the gravel, but that is like pinch compared to my pain on my foot. I try going further, but another gush of wind hits my body, ad I'm pushed into the snow again. Why can't anyone in Sae's Diner find me? Why isn't anybody here in these streets? Oh yes - it's a snowstorm. Nobody would be going to a library, or a diner for that matter, when you can barely see anything.

I slump back to the ground, and curl my hands over my chest. The hat over my head is slipping away from my ears, and cold air hitting my eardrums at full force. I'm so numb. I'm so tired. It hurts. Everything hurts.

_Shit_.

My bag.

My cellphone is in there, my books, my notes..and it's so _far_. I roll over to my side, and I contemplate whether I should go for it. I figure that -

"Katniss!" someone yells. "Is that you?"

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**Sorry for the cliff-hanger! I think most of you guys have an idea who that "someone" is though ;) **

**Love you all! Please be sure to follow, favorite, and review! **


	9. He Found Me

**Hey guys! ****Hope you had a great March Break :) ****I know that it's been a long time since I updated, but here it is! Finally, you will get a hint of what's happening to Peeta. I'm excited for you guys to read this chapter! Hope this makes your Wednesday better! ****By the way, this is the longest chapter I have written for this story, so i hope you enjoy it c:**

**As always, I own nothing.**

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I try pulling myself up, and I find a shadow coming towards me behind the snow. It's a male. He's thin, medium height...and his hair is flying wildly. He comes closer, forging through the wind that is pushing him back. "Katniss!" he yells again. I immediately recognize his voice.

"Peeta!" I call, using the last bit of energy remaining in me. "Peeta, I'm here!"

He's in front of me. Face pink, curls wet and sticking wildly over his head, and concern etched in every muscle. His blue eyes look down on me, full of worry. He then stares ahead, what I think he may be looking at is my backpack. He scans the surroundings, but his eyes fall on me once again. "My foot," I croak. "Right." Peeta nods wordlessly, and walks towards my backpack. He swiftly throws it over his shoulder. He then returns to me, and leans down. I'm unsure what he's going to do, but then I feel his arms holding me from my back and underside of my knees. I don't know how he does it - especially now most of his muscle mass is gone - but he picks me 's steady, like a rock. His arms wrap under me, careful not to touch my foot. When I groan after another wave of pain hits, he holds onto me tighter. I'm trying not to admit that I've been craving his protection and steadiness for awhile.

Peeta doesn't say anything. I cannot decipher his emotions or thoughts at the moment. What must he be thinking about me? And how did he find me? Whatever the reason is, I am indebted to Peeta now. Without him, I'd be freezing to death in that snow bank. II cannot make out a thank-you. Peeta is surely deserving of it, but I cannot spit the words out. Instead, when we pass Sae's Diner, I tell him throatily, "Let's go to Sae's. Dad will pick me up."

I feel his head shaking. He leans close to my ear, his blond curls tickling my skin. "It's closed. We'll go to the bakery. It's much closer compared to your house." The mention of his house makes me a bit hesitant. Will Mrs. Mellark be there? I cannot imagine the tension if I were face to face with the woman who presumably hurt Peeta. But anyway, Peeta is doing what he can to help me. I know, if they were under any other circumstances, the thought of Peeta inviting me to his house would ultimately be impossible. I know he's uncomfortable about it, so I suppose he must really want to help me if he's willing to let go of this discomfort.

Peeta carries me as he pushes through the wind. Snowflakes cover my jacket, body and face. I immediately feel bad that Peeta must be holding a lot of weight, and he's already weak. "You can put me down. Just help me walk."

"Don't be stupid, Katniss. You're barely able to stand on your feet," he says hoarsely. "What happened anyway?"

I shudder as cold air seeps into my already wet clothes. "Slipped on ice."

"You? Slip on ice?" Peeta asks, voice laced with surprise. "I don't believe that."

I scowl, but within me I'm feeling a blooming happiness. It's been such a long time that Peeta and I have talked as friends. And he seems to have remembered my agility, especially in gym class when I received first place in a obstacle course. On time, he nicknamed me "little squirrel" but then I whacked him, so he never called me that again. "Little squirrels may have some bad days," I tell him lightly, trying to find a glimpse of the old Peeta although I'm still under a lot of pain.

Peeta laughs deeply. The sound of his chuckles warms my heart. "You remember that?"

"Yeah, I remember how much I hated that nick name," I reply jokingly. And then, another wave of pain overwhelms my body. I moan, clutching onto Peeta's arm to place some pressure somewhere. Peeta doesn't waver. He's steady.

We don't speak until we reach the bakery. I expect him to put me down somewhere so he can open the door, but instead he kicks the door open. It is unlocked.

His house is dark and cold. "I'm going to put you down so I can turn on the lights, alright?" Then, he slowly sets me to the floor. I watch Peeta's shadow feel the walls, until he turns the light on. Once brightness fills the room, Peeta walks over to me and says, "The bakery has changed since the last time you've came." I scan my surroundings. The cafe-like tables are gone, and now what is left is emptiness. The walls no longer have Peeta's paintings. The bakery items out in display are dwindled, and the menu is quite shortened. All in all, the bakery is homey or welcoming anymore. Instead, it's stale and cold. It's seems all the life in the bakery has left.

Peeta leans down, and takes me in his arms again. He carries me through a door, and walks up the steps. We pass through a dark hallway, and then he nudges a door open. The room inside is cold,the temperatures dropping further than it was before. I can make out a few shadows in the darkness - a bed, a nightstand, a desk. Peeta slowly drops me on his bed, and then turns on the light. I squint as I look at my surroundings. Similar to the bakery, the walls of Peeta's room are stripped of his paintings. There is no longer the meadow painting above his old, rickety desk any more, or the sunset one across from the bed. Those two were my favorite of his many paintings in the room - but they're gone. Along with his artwork, it seems a piece of him left too.

I curse as Peeta lifts my leg, so he can place a pillow underneath it for support. He then leaves the room, murmuring something about ice. He returns a little while later with a bag of ice, and places is gently on top of ankle. I squirm as the biting cold spreads throughout my skin, but then I allow myself to adjust to it. It's better now. "Thank you for finding me," I say, with my eyes still closed.

"I was late coming to the library. On my way, I found your body on the floor. I didn't know it was you, but I knew I had to help you. Once I came nearer...there you were," he explains solemnly. "I'm thankful that I was able to find you in the cold." It's just like Peeta to forge through a storm to help a stranger. He's a genuinely good person. What still baffles me is his so-called reputation at school - something I have no idea what it is in the first place. Maybe whatever ill doings he's involved in is not intended for anyone's expense. I've always believed that the world was neither black nor white.

Nodding slightly, I tell him, "I need to speak with my parents."

"Already called them," he replies. "Your mom told me to give your leg some elevation and ice. They left the house five minutes ago." There's a pregnant pause. "My mom's not here."

Then, I extend my arm. He's siting on the floor, beside the bed. A hint of his blond curls rest on the bed sheet. Once he realizes I want his hand, he laces his fingers through mine. His hands are rough and dry, but they are still warm against my cold ones. "I was so worried about you, Peeta." I expect him to draw his hand away, but he grips onto me tighter. He doesn't let me go like he usually does. What he says next actually surprises me.

"She's gone for now," he says quietly.

He's referring to his witch-of-a-mother. "Where did she go?" I ask him quietly, without a care if he takes it in offence.

I watch as his curls shakes back and forth. "It doesn't matter where she went. As long as she's gone from here."

I nod. "Where's your Dad? Rye, Bannock?" The moment the words leave my tongue, he drops my hand. Instantly, cold rushes back to my hand. Peeta gets up abruptly, and turns to face me. His sharp, blue eyes stare at me intently. He's furious.

"They're not here," he snaps.

I try pulling myself into a sitting position, but Peeta reaches towards me and lightly pushes me back down. "No, stay here," he tells me sternly, but his expression is still concerned. I decide that I should not have brought up the topic of his family. It seems his family is the reason for his drug-abuse, alcoholism, and terrible behavior at school. Whatever they had done to him must have been really severe. If only I was there to comfort him at his time of need.

"Tell me what happened, Peeta," I order. I won't allow him to refuse anymore. Peeta has been hiding his problems for so long, and I gave him enough time to get comfortable. When I think about it, the reason why I decided to be his physics tutor is not actually for boosting my grade; rather, I wanted to speak to him again. I wanted to be his friend again, and I still to do. But most importantly, I want to help him. So there's no way I'll have him dodge the bullet again. Even his sad, pleading eyes won't sway me this time. "Peeta, tell me."

"No," he says calmly at first, "No." He begins to walk backwards, away from me. I barely have time to tell him to watch out as he crashes into his desk. He doesn't wince, or clench his eyes shut, when he gets up from the floor. His eyes reveal bewilderment. "No!" That is when I forget about my ankle. I pounce off the bed, but then I collapse onto the ground. I take a sharp intake of my breath, and reach for my ankle. But then, I feel him nearing to me. His arms wrap around my body, and picks me up from the ground in a bridal style. He carefully drops me back onto the bed. As he does so, he's silent. I don't look at him. I shouldn't have brought up the topic. In his own house, I've offended him while all he has been doing for me was for my own betterment. Although we have tip-toed around this topic for months, _years_, I decide that now is not the time to have an argument with him. "I'm sorry," he apologizes. Although I nod in acceptance, I still believe he has no reason to apologize. He has been nothing but kind to me. I've always pushed him away, stretched his limits. I'm perhaps the reason for his condition now, anyway.

The moment I recall the moment weeks before, tears begin falling from my eyes. This is the first time in a very, very long time that I've cried. Perhaps it is because problems and issues toppled over each other, and the burden over my shoulders were too hefty to carry. I let go, of course. But I still have no right to cry, especially when Peeta is more deserving to let go of his sorrows. It's almost pitying. It's ridiculous. But I cannot help to sink into him once he wraps his strong, yet thin, arms around me. I cry harder when he whispers soothing words into my ear. "I'm sorry," he continuously repeats. "I'm sorry." I don't reply, because every time I open mouth to respond another wave of bawling escapes from my lips."You've helped me so much Katniss. You have no idea. The effect you can have." The comment makes me furious, upset, and relieved at the same time. I begin thrashing in arms, trying to get away from him because he's not supposed to say that. Surprisingly, Peeta's firm. Steady. "I know what you were trying to do for the past couple of weeks. You're trying to help me. I just want to let you know that your efforts are going to waste."

I immediately stop crying. I wipe my nose furiously using my sleeve, and blink back the remaining tears in my eyes. I forget about my decision earlier. "Shut up, Peeta," I snap. "You pushed me away too much. This time I'm going to stand my ground. Let me help you."

He then takes my wrist, and grips it gently. I try to retract from his touch, but he holds on tight. I look up at him in fury, but he offers me a sad smile. He's no longer angry. He just seems defeated. "Katniss, you can't help me. I'm a lost cause." I open my mouth to snap back at him, but he places a finger on my lips. "Listen, thank you so much. You're the only person who has cared for me for a very long time. I really appreciate it. But I gone too deep, Katniss. I can't go back now."

I'm more confused than anything else at the moment. But then I shake my head, and tell him, "I have no idea what you're talking about. What I really want to know right now is...is what happened?" The way I framed the question is too blunt. It has always been difficult for me to control my words. I suppose now Peeta wouldn't answer the question. But I still add in, gently as I can, "You saved me, Peeta. I would have froze to death out there. Let me help you. Please."

"I can't tell you," he says quietly. He still holds my hand, which is an improvement from thrashing away from me.

That is when I hear the doorbell ringing impatiently. Mom and Dad are here. "Wait here," Peeta says. I quickly wipe away the tears, and fix my disheveled hair. Seconds later, Dad is at the door of the bedroom. He looks at me, with face etched with concern.

He doesn't say anything for awhile. But then, he manages out, "It's all my fault." I shake my head vigorously. He's not to blame that I fell on ice. He didn't even know that there was going to be that massive of a snowstorm. If it were anybody's fault, it would be mine. But before I have a chance to respond to his comment, Dad rushes over to me and pulls me into a sitting position. I cringe as his arm accidentally sweeps against my ankle. "Sorry," he apologizes. And then he calls for Peeta, who immediately comes into the room. He whispers something into my friend's ear, and he nods. I notice how Dad's eyes scan Peeta's body, probably noticing his weight loss. His eyes travel to the bruise peeking from his shirt, but then Dad sharply turns. I suppose this would be a topic for later on. Anyway, Peeta nears to me, and picks me up in a bridal style. I want to tell him that I can walk myself, feeling especially uncomfortable with my parents here. But I decide to shut my mouth for now.

He carries me downstairs. I'm in an awkward position, but I'm unable to move so I can rest more comfortably. Instead, I try to divert my attention to something else. I find myself thinking the events of today. The morning feels like a lifetime ago. Perhaps it is because of a new breakthrough I have encountered this evening. I finally broke Peeta's walls he has built for years. It's as if things have changed between us today. I'm unable to place my finger on it, but I think it has to do with Peeta coming to my rescue and taking care of me in his forbidden home. I figure that Peeta may return to his old self. I allow myself to smile, despite the throbbing pain of my ankle.

Mom is at the steps, who looks solemn but stern. Her focus is on my ankle, and then she scans the rest of my leg. She doesn't seem to notice that I'm in Peeta's arms. I guess it makes it slightly less awkward that she's not mentioning him. Mom has always been so focused. She knows what to do, when to do it, and how. Mom has been a nurse for nearly twenty years. And damn, she's good at what she does. Prim had inherited her helping hands, and now she dreams of becoming a doctor. I tell Prim that her dream will become a reality. "Take her to the car," she instructs to Peeta, without diverting her gaze. Peeta concurs by carefully taking me outside. He whispers an apology that he didn't bring my jacket, but I simply wave it off. I can manage being in the cold for a couple seconds. I managed lying in a snow bank in a middle of a snowstorm for nearly half an hour, so I suppose I'm able to withstand the chill for a bit.

When he sets down on the backseat, Dad comes the other way to shift me. I'm lying horizontally on the seats, with my leg elevated by a pillow. Peeta then secures a seat belt of a chest, and shuts the door briskly. I have never been used to being a damsel in distress. I always was independent, strong, and never relying on anybody. The thought of depending my parents and Peeta to take care of me would've sounded ridiculous to me a couple of hours ago. I suppose now I'm helpless. I can't even stand on two feet, let alone walk.

As I'm resting my head against the window, I think about Peeta. I can't turn my head to see him, because his back is towards me as he speaks to my parents. I wonder what he must be talking about me. Maybe, and most probably, my ankle situation...but anyway, it really shouldn't matter. The only thing that's lingering on in my mind is the strangeness in the Mellark house. Why were the paintings removed? Where was his family? Peeta stated that his mother is gone, but I have no clue what he meant by that. Did she abandon him? Or was she just a grocery store? And what about his brothers? I know his older brother, Rye, is at university now. So he might be living in campus. And his oldest brother, Bannock, was engaged the last time I saw him. So Bannock might have moved out a very long time ago. And Peeta's Dad? I haven't seen him in awhile. Peeta said nobody was home, so Mr. Mellark might've been somewhere else.

Suddenly, the events of weeks ago rush through my head. Images of Peeta drinking from a large whisky bottle, screaming, and then crying. This time, I don't shake those memories away. I hold onto them tight, because Peeta's cries for his father ring through my head.

It's then I realize what happened those summers ago. I have never considered this possibility, although it has been right in my face for a very long time.

Mr. Mellark is dead.

* * *

**Sorry about the cliff-hanger! I bet many of you were expecting this, but I swear there is more to come. Don't worry, YFM is not done yet. I have probably another 8 chapters to go. **

**Love you all!**

**-Alina**


	10. Better

**A/C: I know, I know...**

**It's been months, and I feel really bad for leaving you guys hanging. I don't have much of an excuse, so there's no point in making one up. The truth is: I got really busy...and I sort of procrastinated. **

**But the good thing is...It's finally here! It's kind of short, but I needed a filler chapter for the next. And here's another good thing: I've already pre-wrote a few chapters so the wait for me to update won't be too long! :D**

**So anyway, thanks for sticking by this story and I really hope you enjoy it.**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

I return to school a week after fracturing my ankle. I am now struggling to walk on my crutches since I'm not quite used to them yet. Mom and Dad refused to let me go up and down the stairs by myself without their support, or even walk to the next room. I was completely, utterly dependent of them, and I hated every moment of it. They never realized how difficult it would be for me to adjust to every day life. So here I am - swinging myself across the busy hallways to physics class with a permanent scowl on my face. I'm cursing myself for not being quick enough, or having enough upper body strength to maneuver myself on these goddamn crutches. The bell indicating tardiness has rung nearly five minutes ago. At least the halls are less crowded now.

Once I step foot into the classroom, the entire class falls silent and stares at my crutches. I look away from those curious eyes, and instead concentrate getting to my seat. I'm not used to getting attention, especially this kind. It's the kind that people pity you for. Why won't everybody just resume with their chatter? Or not pay attention to me at all? My eyes flit over to the extreme right of the classroom, scanning for a blond head. But when I see it, I pretend as if I didn't. Hopefully the boy didn't tell any body what happened last Friday night.

After a few moments, somebody coughs and the class gradually gets louder. I internally sigh in relief. I quietly make my way to my seat, and take out a pencil from my pocket and gently tap it against my desk. "Miss Everdeen?" Mr. Crane says. I look up and meet his cold eyes with my own. "It seems you are faring well. I already spoke to your father that you will be taking your test today, so I believe he passed you the news." Yes, Dad did tell me, and fortunately I did remember to study last night. I am prepared, but not as well prepared as I should be considering the time I had to study. I nod my head, so Mr. Crane slips me a few stapled sheets. "You have an hour, Everdeen."

I have five minutes left once I finish the test. I look over my answers a few times, and then I raise my hand. Mr. Crane gets up from his desk and takes the test from me and nods. The test was okay. It was fair: there were no questions that were too difficult or too easy to answer. Although I do not believe I got all the questions right, especially in the multiple choice section which is were I usually lose marks in, I do believe I did well. I spend the rest of the twenty minutes of class looking over the classwork Mr. Crane assigned for the other students. It's a bit confusing because I have missed five days of school, but I always seem to self study at home so it really won't make a difference. Of course I will have to stay up tonight, however.

Peeta stands in front of my desk as I attempt to answer one of the questions. He is stoic, expressionless. He's thinner compared to the last time I've seen him. "Here," he says simply as he pushes forward a stack of papers. "The notes you missed."

I look at him, eyeing him before I carefully pull the notes into my hands. The handwriting is small, precise, and neat. There are nearly 10 pages worth of lessons I've missed.. Snapping my head back up, I find Peeta already staring at me. "Thanks," I mumble. It is really kind of Peeta to lend me his notes. But that it is not why I'm surprised, rather, it is because he _has_ the notes to lend me. He's been more diligent as of late - I mean, his notes are highlighted, sticky noted, and dated. Looks like he really cares about his grades now. A smile creeps up to my face, and instead of replacing it with a scowl, I allow it to grow bigger when he returns it tentatively.

He opens his mouth as if to say something, but then Mr. Crane begins to call names. At first I think he's doing the attendance, but then students walk up to him and take their sheets from him. The test. "Peeta?" Mr. Crane calls. The blond haired boy shoots me a glance, his smile dropping instantly. My heart begins to race for him. I wonder if he did well on the test. I didn't get to tutor him that day in the library for obvious reasons. But Peeta is smart, so he caught on quick with what I was teaching him.

Peeta takes his test from Crane's hands. His eyes scan over the sheets of people, flipping between them. His face is expressionless. Did he do bad? I think he did. He comes to me while biting his lip, while continuously looking at his test. When he's in front my desk, he exhales slowly. "Peeta?" I ask carefully. Before the words tumble out of my mouth, he slides the test across the desk. I bring the paper close to my face, and scan the sheet. There, on the very top of the page, is written in messy handwriting in red pen: _87%. _I don't even notice that I'm lifted into the air until I hear Peeta's deep laugh. I feel the vibrations against his chest, so lively and liberating. I notice tears are wetting on the front of his shirt, but I don't care. I don't even care we're hugging the middle of the class, where dozens of pairs of eyes are gawking at us now. I lock myself in his embrace, refusing to ever let go.

But we have to once a lightning bolt of pain runs through my leg. My mouth lets out a yelp without my consent, so Peeta sets me down on the chair and murmurs apologies repeatedly. "It's fine," I brush it off. "Congratulations, Peeta. You really deserved it."

Peeta beams with a smile that I haven't seen in such a long time. "I wouldn't have been able to achieve this without you, Katniss. Without your help, I wouldn't have passed the tests. All my thanks are to you."

"Shut up, Peeta. You earned it yourself. Even though I wasn't even there to help you in the library -," I begin until Peeta cuts in.

His brows furrow. "I'm not sure why you feel bad because of that. It was all my fault. I shouldn't have made you to come help me in such awful weather. I should've just told you we could postpone it, but instead I made you walk in a severe blizzard without anyone knowing where you were."

I bang the table harshly. I feel everyone's eyes draw on me, but I ignore it. Who cares what they think? "Peeta, for the record, nobody made me go to the library. Plus, you didn't even want me to tutor you at first. And you didn't know there was a blizzard, because I'm pretty sure you would tell me before going. It's not your fault. It's not anybody's fault. Things just happen and we have to deal with it."

His heads falls and he bites his lip and says, "But what I really wanted to tell you is thank you. Thank you for having your faith in me. Because to be honest, I only wanted to do well so I wouldn't disappoint you."

Suddenly the bell rings. I turn my head to Peeta, and ask, "Walk me to class?"

* * *

At lunch, Peeta and I sit together at lunch. We speak about anything and everything, but avoiding the topic of his home situation. However, as I nibble on my apple, I notice that Peeta hasn't eaten yet. I furrow my eyebrows, eyeing his backpack while he talks about his types of bread.

"-naan in India is really soft and chewy. It is made in a special type of clay oven called a -," he says before I interrupt him.

"You don't have a lunch," I state. It's not a question. It's a fact, a statement.I do not try to hide that I'm staring at his wiry arms, which were once thick and strong and muscular. I think about the times when he used to pick me up and carry me around like a doll, and no matter how much I insisted I hated it, I secretly liked it. It's hard to believe that those thin arms were able to carry me a couple of weeks ago. Then, I worried that two people would have to go to the hospital.

He looks at me carefully, but then his gaze drops. "Not hungry," he murmurs. Of course he's hungry - two years ago he could eat an entire pizza by himself. Or, maybe he's adjusted to not having enough to eat. It is a scary thought I do not want to consider.

"Peeta, you should really eat lunch. I mean, have you seen how thi,-," I begin before I bite my lip forcefully. I really shouldn't have brought up his weight loss. It is a conversation that should really not take place right now, especially since today was the first time I've seen him so happy in a long time.

"Please, Katniss," he says in a hushed voice. "I'm fine. No need to worry."

I purse my lips. "Peeta, we're friends, right?"

He nods his head carefully, avoiding eye contact.

"So you know I only want the best for you. Can you make a few promises to me?"I ask, fiddling my thumbs nervously.

"Depends," he responds. He looks at me, scans my appearance, and then his gaze falls.

I take a deep breath. "Promise me you won't smoke or drink any more." I pause for a second as he stares at me. "And if you have any problem, you will tell me."

He waits for a few moments before he answers. "No," he states.

"Why?" I snap angrily. "You can't do this for me? You said yourself that you're indebted to me, so here's how you will pay back your debt: stop drinking, stop smoking, and stop pushing me away from your life!" At this point, I notice the cafeteria has gone silent. I scan across the large room, noticing everyone's eyes drawn on us. Even the teachers'. Oh, we are such a show for them. A nerd with a boy gone bad. In their eyes, we are ridiculous. And I don't blame them, because instantly, both of our cheeks become red.

As everyone begins to whisper, Peeta says, "Come on." He helps me up from the seat, and we walk out of the cafeteria.

Once we reach our destination (which seems to be an empty hall way), he stops me by the shoulders and looks into my eyes. "Okay, I promise," he says. And as my smile grows across my face, I see his appear.

I lean towards him and wrap my arms around him, refusing to ever let go.

* * *

**I'm still looking for a beta so please PM me if you're interested!**

**Love,**

**Alina :)**


	11. Demons

**Since you guys have been so loyal to me, I'd like to reward you with a new chapter :) It hasn't even been a day but I felt guilty that people were following this story but I left you guys hanging for so long. So here you all go! Hope you enjoy it!**

**Disclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

_I wanna hide the truth_

_I wanna shelter you_

_But the beast inside,_

_There's nowhere we can hide._

* * *

My ankle slowly gets better. In a few weeks, I no longer need crutches and my cast is removed. I finally feel so free and liberated that the stupid thing has no restraint over me. Finally, I can walk. I could never quite appreciate it as I do right now.

Dad spoke to me once about that day in the storm. "What happened to Peeta?" he asked one day as he was reading the newspaper. I bit my lip and I tried to act normal, but truly my heart was racing.

"He's okay. His Father died so he's still recovering a bit," I told him. It was not really a lie, I mean, I'm pretty sure part of the reason why he's like this is because of Mr. Mellark's death. Right?

Dad nodded, and returned to his newspaper.

I felt sick in the stomach.

...

In physics class, we get a mark update.

It is what we have been waiting for all this time, Peeta and I. Peeta wrote one test, in which he received an 87%, and two quizzes which he got over 85% on. I'm more worried about his grade than mine. So when Crane calls his name, I feel like I cannot breathe. But when Peeta returns to me, he has a small smile. He takes the seat beside me, and shows the tiny slip of paper.

_68%._

I throw myself into his arms, and cling onto him tight._ "_You did it!" I exclaim once he lets go. He's smiling ear to ear. Not only did he pass, but he's so close getting a 70% in this class. If he works harder, maybe he'll receive an 80%. "I'm so proud of you, Peeta."

"You helped me so much, Katniss. Now I don't have to be worried that I'll have to return to this hell-bent school in the summer," he says jokingly. We begin chattering about Delly Cartwright's sweet shop and how his family's female pig is going to give birth. We speak about anything and everything that does not involve his family situation. It's nice for awhile, to forget the problems we have. This is how it should've been. Peeta and I together.

Once the bell rings, Crane looks over to me. He motions for me to come to him. I walk slowly towards him as the rest of class escapes into the halls. Crane's usual stern face transforms into something close to cheery. His lips stretch over his skull-like face as he says, "Congratulations, Miss. Everdeen. It seems your student has been improving significantly since you began teaching him."

I cross my eyes over to him. "It wasn't me. It was him all the long. He just needed someone to remind him that he can achieve excellence." I scowl in his direction. Peeta will achieve ever more than a 68%. He'll have the greatest improvement in a grade the school has ever known.

After, Crane lets me leave class. I walk to the cafeteria and I find Peeta already sitting at a table. I feel guilty for not sitting next to Madge, but I cannot see her in the cafeteria so perhaps she's in the library. And to be honest, I prefer Peeta's company more than hers, although I really do like Madg.e What Peeta and I have is something special, something that can never be replaced. So, I instantly plop myself on the seat beside him. He smiles at me, and asks what Crane wanted to talk about. I tell him that he congratulated me. "Well, you do deserve it," he responds. "Without your help - "

I snort. "Shut up, Peeta. It's your grade, not mine. You're the one who achieved it."

"Well, if you're not going to accept my thanks, then you may as well take this," he says with a wink. He unzips his backpack and rummages for something inside. Once he finds it, he lays it on the table It is a brown paper bag.

I curiously open it, and I find one of my most favourite things in the world.

Cheesebuns.

Once I see my favourite childhood treat appear in his hands, I immediately salivate. "You can still make these?" I ask, still eyeing the crusty cheese on top of the flaky bun.

"Sure," he shrugs. He passes it to me, and without a moment to spare I dig my teeth into it. It's exploding with flavours and memories, and I shut my eyes so I can fully savour it. Who knows when I can experience this again? I feel the crumbs dropping on my shirt, and probably everyone in the cafeteria is staring, but who cares? As a child, Peeta would always bring a few of them with him at school. I remember his rosy, chubby cheeks and his innocent smile as he looked at me while I devoured it. He was always bringing treats in from the bakery, without his mother's knowledge of course, and we would have a little picnic with them on the grass. Those were probably one of the most great childhood memories with Peea. Once I'm done, I grab Peeta's hand and squeeze it.

"It tastes the same after all these years," I tell him as I wipe the crumbs away from the corners of my mouth.

Peeta looks at me intently, and then he leans over to me. I hold my breath, and my heart begins to pound. His fingers gently graze across my skin, sending an electric shock to my spine. I feel like I'm on fire. Our eyes lock, and his pupils dilate as they bore into mine. Once the moment passes, he whispers, "There was a crumb over there."

* * *

Peeta and I become good friends. We sit with each other at lunch and we walk together to class. We speak about nonsensical things and we laugh at lame jokes. As the days go on, I find myself becoming happier with Peeta by my side. I've realized that I've missed his smile, his laugh, his voice, and his genuity. I feel ashamed that I've been pushing him away for so long. He simply needed a friend, someone that cared about him. He has been troubled with his father's death and barely any one was there to help him pull through it. Now that I'm here, I think he has finally gone back to normal.

Almost.

I'm unzipping my back pack when I hear screams and cheering. I look up, and I find a large crowd at the end of hall. I throw a few books inside my backpack while I watch the crowd grow and grow. Once I zip it back up, I curiously walk to the crowd to find out what's going on. "Man, that kid is crazy," I hear a guy say. "Ha, Cato can beat him without a sweat," another one says. "I never knew that crack-head could fight." Once I squirm myself through the crowd, pushing a few individuals to the side, the scene plays out in front of me. There, in the middle of the circle, stands Peeta who punches viciously at a brute boy, whose name I remember to be Cato Hedley. Cato kicks Peeta in the shins, and the blond-haired boy collapses to his knees. Cato continues to kick until Peeta roughly pulls on Cato's leg. Cato falls on top of him, and they proceed to roll around on the floor, throwing punches.

At one point Cato has Peeta in a headlock, and I cannot stand by any more and watch."No!" I scream. Instantly, the crowd falls silent.

Cato releases Peeta from his grip. Petea holds onto his neck as he breathes heavily. His face is pink and his lips are returning from purple to its normal shade. I quickly bring myself to Peeta's side and I hold onto his shoulder. "Breathe, Peeta," I instruct. I notice his arms are red and bruised, and there is a cut underneath his eye. I look over to Cato, he has a gash on his cheekbone with also matching bruises on his arms. All the while, he watches over us and sneers.

Cato snickers."I knew she was your new bitch, Mellark," he says crudely. Normally, I would be pissed off with that remark, but at the moment I couldn't care less.

Peeta's eyes cross over to Cato. "Shut the fuck up, Hedley," he snaps. "I'm ready for round 2 if you can handle it."

"Peeta, stop," I warn as my eyes flit over Cato's angry face. "It's no use. It's not worth it."

But then I hear whoops and cheers from the crowd, and I begin to wonder where the teachers are when they are needed the most. Is everyone really going to cheer on another fight? Are people that heartless and stupid? Why were the just standing by as Peeta struggled to breathe?!

"You wanna go, Mellark?" he says with a snicker. "I was able to kill you a few moments before this slut came along."

Peeta's jaw set as he begins to rise from the ground.

"You don't need to do this, Peeta," I tell him forcefully as I pull him downwards. He shrugs me off, but I continue, "I don't need you to defend me from this idiot." My heart pounds against my chest, and my anxiety and worry increases with every passing moment. "Just stop!" I scream as he begins to walk over to Cato.

I rush over in between of them, trying to be the mediator. Unfortunately, Cato pushes me to the side, and I fall to the ground. _Thud. _My back hits the ground. I hear Peeta cursing and swearing in Cato's direction. Then, Peeta comes to my side and helps me up from the ground. I hear murmurs in the crowd while Cato continues to mock us. "Whore and druggie. What an interesting combination," he says. I watch Peeta's face distort into intense ferocity, but he holds it in as he steadies me.

Suddenly, everything becomes silent. High heel clicks gradually increase in volume. And a man's stern voice addresses the crowd, "Everyone, out of the school!" he orders. The crowd instantly dissipates, and all is left is a large man alongside a peacock-like woman,"You," he points towards Peeta, "And _you," _he then points at Cato,"Come to my office immediately."Peeta gives me a look, and then he turns his head. He walks behind the man along with Cato. I watch as they slowly become into ants in the far distance, until they completely disappear.

I have no choice but to go home.

* * *

"I started applying to Colombia, but I don't know if I'll get in," Gale says as he stares up at the ceiling. He runs his hands through his hair and sighs. "Mom will be happy if I don't. She doesn't want me too far away from home." I nod pathetically as Gale speaks. I pretend I'm doing homework on my desk but I'm actually staring at polynomials wondering if Peeta would be able to help me with them in another life. "My grades are good. Not as high as I want them to be, but I think they are still considerable. I volunteered a lot and I joined Student Council. But why am I not getting an early acceptance?" he complains as he drops his arm onto my bed.

It's another weekday night where the Hawthornes come over for dinner. We always look forward to them coming, but Dad has become more and more reluctant letting the boys into our rooms, for obvious reasons. Gale and I are strictly friends, and I've told this to Dad _numerous_ of times, but he still is a bit sketchy of the boy. He forbade Prim from letting them close the door while Rory is in the room, because another time he saw Rory eyeing Prim for too long. But for Gale and I it is normal for him to lie on my bed and speak about random things while I listen. He makes himself at home, and I'll be honest, I do the same when I'm at his house. We are as close as brother and sister. "Barely any one gets an early acceptance at this time of year, Gale. Just wait it out," I say to him.

"I know, but Thom got accepted into Stanford already," he responds.

I snort. "Who cares, Gale. Just be patient for once in your life."

He turns his head to face me, and sits up. Immediately, I see his face become serious. For a second, I'm afraid I've offended him, until he speaks, "Did you hear what happened today, Katniss?"

I freeze. My pencil drops to the ground, and I scramble to pick it up so it seems I didn't lose composure. "Yeah," I reply shakily. "Ms. Trinket is pregnant." Obviously, that is not what he is speaking about, but I really don't want to speak about Peeta with Gale. Not now. Not ever.

"You know that's not what I'm talking about," he says. "That Mellark kid fought Cato today. Bristol told me." I do not respond as I stare at my hands. "Do you know what it was about, Katniss?" he asks almost angrily. "Do you?" I remain silent. Of course I know, and so does he. Why bother speaking about it? "That stupid kid ruined your reputation at school. Now every one is speaking about you. Why did you even got involved with that douche, anyway? I can't believe you're actually _dating_ him."

I slam my hand against the desk. "Shut up, Gale," I snap. "First of all, I don't care about my reputation. Second, why do you care? And third, _we are not dating_!"

Gale stares at me with intensity. "Do you have any idea what kind of guy he is, Katniss?" he asks lowly.

"Yeah, he's the kind that saved me when I broke my ankle," I counter.

He shakes his head. "Yeah, that's how all of them are like. He's trying to lure you in with kindness before he takes advantage of you."

I furrow my eyebrows. "This is my second time telling you this - Peeta is my friend! We've been friends for years! He has never, not _once_, has he tried to do anything of the like " As the word "friend" escapes my lips, my mouth tastes sour. The real question is: am I really his friend? I should be protecting him, helping him. I haven't done anything like that. Because I'm a coward.

"But he's not the same any more," he responds icily. "Do you know what he's a part of?" I shake my head,motioning him to stop. But he continues, "He sells drugs, Katniss. He's a drug dealer and he could be arrested for what he is doing. He is a part of a gang, and he has so many connections that he could kill people in a heart beat. " He waits for a few moments before he says quietly, "Do you really think that kind of guy would have good intentions?"

"Then why isn't he expelled yet?" I argue. It's days like these I really don't want Gale around me. He always has a way to get under my skin. Sometimes I really don't think he wants well for me. Sometimes I think he just wants to piss me off.

He laughs a cold laugh. "No idiot wants to deal with Mellark. Like I told you. he has connections. He could arrange a murder if someone were to tell on him."

"I don't believe that," I respond as I walk out of my room.

* * *

The next morning, surely enough Cato's Hedley's face appears on the news. He was killed last night.

* * *

**A/N: Sorry for the cliff-hanger! I really hope you're enjoying this story. Please be sure to review, favourite, and follow!**

**-Alina**


	12. Change

**Diclaimer: I own nothing.**

* * *

It is a cloudy day, chilly and sombre. The ground is paved with layers of ice, too dangerous to walk without caution. I do not care for it, though. Sure, I've already experienced a broken ankle because of my impatience, but right now that is not my priority. I need to speak to him before it's too late.

Gale's words ring through my head as I turn the corner. There is no one in sight on the roods. It is Sunday morning after all, everyone would be in their beds sleeping in. But Peeta wouldn't be, and I know that for a fact. I'm angry at him, I want to pretend he doesn't exist in my life, but he does and I have already committed to him. I want to believe what Madge said was a lie. I mean, years ago Peeta would not even consider those types of things. He was pure at heart, too gentle to hurt a fly. But it's time for me to face the truth. Peeta is no longer the boy I knew. We're no longer sophomores. He's a boy whose life have been tarnished since the day his father died. And he has taken a toll on it, and finds terrible, terrible ways to cope. And I'm a girl whose lost her courage, and watches as her best friend slowly wither away.

But I'm not going to be that girl any more. And neither will he be that boy. After this day, things are going to change.

I need answers. I stomp up the steps with a fake confidence. I'm about to knock furiously on the door, but then I realize that wouldn't be a good idea. The last thing I need is to meet Mrs. Mellark. So I turn around, and saunter to the back of the bakery. As a child, I would climb up to the second floor and knock on Peeta's window. It would be a weekday night, so he would be on his desk completing homework. Once he would see me, his eyes would light up. He would open the window and let me inside. We used to quietly tell jokes and play cards while his family would be sleeping or watching television. We both knew his mother wouldn't be too happy with Peeta having friends over. So we kept it as a secret. But every now and then Mr. Mellark would open his door to find us rolling on the floor laughing, and would shake his head disapprovingly. He would put his finger to his lips though, and then wink before he closed the door. I plan on continuing this ritual today, except Mr. Mellark would no longer be involved. Because he's dead.

But before I even have a chance to figure out how to climb the building, I see the boy.

He is leaning against the brick wall, wearing a worn-out leather jacket paired with baggy jeans. His blond curls mop over his face, and his jaw is set in thought. And in his hand holds a single lit cigarette.

I find myself in front of him, knocking the cursed object away from his hands and onto the gravel. I step on it, grinding the cigarette into millions of tiny little pieces for good measure. When my eyes lock with Peeta's, I shake with fury I have never felt before.

"What the fuck, Peeta?" I exclaim angrily. "You _promised_ me! You promised me you wouldn't smoke any more!"

His cold, blue eyes search my face. He doesn't say anything for a few moments. But then he screams a terrible scream.

He beats the wall with his bare hands, his fists turning bloody and bruised. I hold onto his wrists, but he pulls away from me. I scream for him to stop, but he pays no attention to my words. My voice echoes in the silence. I except the neighbours to come out, or even worse, his mother. But she doesn't, so I cling onto him so he doesn't injure himself even further. Instead, he begins murmuring things I cannot decipher, and he holds onto his head. He pulls his hair with his hands, and his eyes are bulging out and dilated. "Stop it! Dammit Peeta!" I yell as I hold onto his arms, refusing to let him go from my grip. "What the hell is wrong with you?"

The boy's legs begin to shake. I decide to set him onto the floor, and once I do he hides his face with his hands and rocks back and forth. Perspiration drops from my forehead as I try to make sense of what I should do. It becomes worse when he starts crying. I even consider bringing Mrs. Mellark to help. His sobs are agony,my heat breaking into millions of pieces like that dammed cigarette. I want to ask him what happened. I want to know what is wrong. But now I'm afraid to know.

"Katniss," I hear him say in his muffled cries. "Just leave me. Go away, please." My eyes scan the open wounds on his hands, along with his puffy eyes encircled with lost sleep. His frame is skinnier than it has ever been before.

I reach for his hands, and pull them away from his face so I could get a better look at him. "I'm not leaving you."

"Just kill me, Katniss. I want to die," he says in between his sobs. "It will be easier for everyone."

I don't care if he's in this fatal position. I don't care he's crying. I don't care he's injured. I slap him. Hard.

"Don't fucking say that. Ever," I tell him sternly. This seems to get back into his senses, but then I see his eyes spark with anger.

"I'm not worth your time, Katniss. Just leave me be," he states. He no longer cries, and his hands no longer shake. "Don't you get it? I'm tired of this, Katniss. I'm tired of everything."

I shake my head. "I'm your friend, Peeta. We've been friends for years. I'm not going to leave you now." Not when he needs me the most. Even though..even though he killed someone. As I think this, I feel like I'm going to throw up. It may not be true, I convince myself. Gale must be lying. Peeta wouldn't hurt a fly. It has to be a misunderstanding.

"Leave me alone, Katniss!" he yells. He jumps up, but I notice him wince in pain. But he covers it up with a scowl in my direction. "Get out of my life!" Before I have a chance to respond, he continues, "You're always there. You're always in the way. I'm a pathetic- " he slaps himself, "waste-", and he slaps himself with his other hand, "of space." He heaves once he is done his rant. My eyes are bulging, mouth agape, unsure what to do. "I don't want to be your friend," he says quietly.

I open my mouth again, but I'm cut off. Not by his words, but his lips. They find my own, and his hand reaches to hold my face. His lips press hard against my own, and they move simultaneously as I kiss back. He smells of smoke, coal, and cinnamon. An odd combination, yet very appealing. His hands move downwards to my waist. He holds me steadily as his lips take me to new heights. But I realize I want more. Since the day I've met him, I've been trying to shake away my attraction to him. And it's not friendship. It's much more than that. I tried to ignore how I would end up staring at his lips wondering how they would taste like. I remember watching his muscles flex when he was kneading dough and imagining how they would feel like against my skin. I remember staring into his eyes and wishing that I'd see them everyday in my life. So,when he pushes me against the hard wall, I do not mind the bricks digging into my back. His eyes are dilated as he brings our hands over my head. He kisses me hard, yet passionately. He then brings his lips to my ear, and whispers, "I fucking love you, Katniss." And then he let's go.

We are staring at each other. I don't know how to respond, so I don't. It was my first kiss, my first admission of love. What am I supposed to do? What am I supposed to say? "I had to do that. At least once," he says quietly. He turns around, faces his back to me, and then he begins to leave. I watch as he walks up to the front porch, and disappear into the house.

I gingerly touch my lips as I return home.

* * *

I am relieved, angry, and confused upon seeing Peeta's figure the next day. Relieved because he is not arrested, angry because of his whereabouts in a gang, and undoubtedly confused as to why he is _not_ arrested. The school bell rings, and I watch him reach for his bag lying on the pavement. School can wait, but Peeta cannot. So, I rush towards him.

"Peeta," I snap. He glances up, immediately aware of my presence. The entire evening, I stayed awake staring at the ceiling, thinking about the kiss, him, and us. But then this morning I realized what happened shouldn't matter. It's selfish for me to think about these things when I should be more concerned about wellbeing. I pushed the events of yesterday on the back of my mind, and I filled myself with a new motivation. But as I try to figure out what to say, I forget everything as I become entranced by his beautiful blue eyes. I know he remembers what happened the day before. I notice his hands grip onto the hem of his shirt like they always do when he's nervous. He likes to pretend that I don't know him, but I can read him like a book. And hell, it makes me want to kiss him right now. No, _no_. "We need to talk," I splutter out after I realize I've been staring at him for too long.

His voice is hoarse and raspy. Probably a result of all his screaming and crying yesterday. "What is there to talk about?"

"A lot," I say as I move towards him. Our eyes lock as we both ignore our surroundings. The students are disappearing into school now, they are laughing and groaning and talking about meaningless things. It is all as insignificant as a fly's broken wing. "I've heard things, Peeta."

He cringes, but he covers it up with a scowl. "So have I. What does it matter?"

"Because I've realized, for a fact, that you could be in a jail for years if you don't quit what you're doing!" I say angrily, not giving a single thought about being quieter. But who the hell cares? Everyone knows about Peeta's stupid drug dealing, and I have been the last to find out. "You think I don't know what you're doing behind closed doors, but I do. I don't care what your motivations are, because if the police finds out you will be screwed."

He snorts, shaking his head dismissively. How could he be so ignorant? How could he be so careless? Why does't he care that he's throwing his life away?! I've been trying so hard so he could get good grades, so he could go to college. So he could bring his life back together. But instead, without giving any care in the world, he has been ruining his life without even letting me know. Shouldn't I deserve to know my efforts are going to waste? It makes me want to scream and cry and punch that boy in the face. "Why, Peeta?" I ask pathetically. My voice begins to crack, and I hate myself for letting it show. "After all I've done for -" All the while, he has been staring at me without a word. Expressionless. But then, he wraps his arms around me as I cry. It should really be the other way around, but at the moment I just...don't know. Every problem in the world disappears as I find refuge in his arms. My head rests on the crook of his neck as he rubs my back soothingly. I smell the damn tobacco again, but I'm just too tired to be angry.

Once my crying diminishes, he lets me go. I instantly feel cold, so vulnerable to the chilly air surrounding us. "Katniss, you don't understand."

"Then help me," I respond as I wipe the snot away from my sleeve. Luckily, Peeta didn't seem to notice, or if he decided not to show it.

"Katniss -," he begins, but then his face darkens. "How many times have I told you, Katniss? Just get away from me. I'm dangerous to be around."

And then it makes sense. After all this time. He has been pushing me away because he has been involved in gangs, and he didn't want me to be suspected if he gets arrested. He has been protecting me, and I have been blaming him for being so selfish. "Peeta, why are you a part of that gang?" I ask him frankly. "It doesn't make sense, Peeta. I never knew you would be involved in -," I gulp as I continue, "all of that."

He sighs dejectedly. He seems so defeated, so tired. "Please, don't tell anybody. Please, Katniss," he pleads. "I didn't kill him. I swear I didn't! Things just happened without my knowledge - and, and I never wanted him dead!" His lip begins to quiver, and his eyes are wide in fear. Does he actually think I would tell the police?

"I'm not going to tell the police, Peeta," I snap. He instantly shows relief.

"Katniss, one thing led to another. But you have to believe me, I never, _ever_, had a single thought about killing someone. You know me, Katniss, I just can't!" he insists. But really, he does not need to. Because I already believe him.

However, that does not clear one thing. "But why, Peeta? Why would be involved in all _that_?"

His face becomes morose. And the words come out slowly as I realize what this means. "It's not that easy, Katniss. Once you get in, and you can't get out."

* * *

**YES! Finally some progress with Everlark! I know you've guys have been waiting for a romantic moment between Katniss &amp; Peeta, so I really hope you enjoyed it. There will be much more of it later on. I also took this story a different direction now, so I hope everything goes smoothly.**

**Thanks for reading!**

**-Alina**


	13. Moment

**See you at the bottom!**

***I own nothing***

* * *

_A shot in the dark_

_A past lost in space_

_Where do I start?_

_The past and the chase_

_You hunted me down_

_Like a wolf, like a predator_

_I felt like a deer in love lights_

* * *

"What do you mean?" I ask carefully, feeling the words as they escape my lips. I remain steady eye contact with him, watching as as he nervously shift from one foot to the other. The wind whistles, and flurries begin to fall from the cloudy sky. I cross my arms over my chest, trying to retain warmth as I wait for his answer. It doesn't come for a moment. And then another. He simply stares at me, appearing wonder-struck and confused. It's as if he forgotten where he is, what he is doing here. It is then I realize he is not wearing a coat, only a worn-down sweater over his thin frame.

The snow settles over his eyelashes, but he does not bother blinking them away. I wrap my arms around him, going on my tip-toes to rest my cheek on his shoulder. His body goes rigid before it relaxes. He hesitantly embraces me, his hands placed on the small of my back. We remain in this position for a minute, until I clear my throat and let him go. "You can tell me, Peeta," I am surprised of how even my voice sounds, how clear and composed it is. "You can trust me."

He looks down at me, and nods. "Follow me," he responds, voice thick and uneven. He takes my hand, and leads me away from the school gate. I don't know where we're going, why we're leaving the school, but I don't care. I trust him, because he finally trusts me. I squeeze his hand as he walk down the main road.

Cars are bustling about, honking and sounds of tires screeching. The snow begins to increase, and the wind picks up. I cling onto him, not because I am cold - rather, I want to keep him warm. The wind blows into our faces, and I no longer have a clear sight. It is not until I almost trip over the stairs that I realize we're at the front of the bakery. My stomach begins to twist. I can only imagine what dark deeds take place inside. I decide not to ponder about the issue any further.

Although my heart is thudding against my chest in anticipation, and I yearn to flee, I know I must stay. I must do this for Peeta. After all this time, I will finally find out the truth about him. But oh, how I wish I could go back underneath my covers and sleep my problems away, not having to face the reality. I want to pretend every thing is okay, like how I've always been doing the past couple of years. But I know I can't... not any more. This time, I will face my problems. I will face the devil and lock his eyes with my own. So, when he nudges me forward, I do not hesitate. He leads me up the steps, and we are now standing at the front door. He takes a moment to rummage through his backpack, and fish out his keys. He jams the keys into the lock, and twists it open roughly. In haste, he kicks the door open, and motions me to follow him. I take a deep breath, and enter.

Upon arriving the dark bakery, my throat begins to catch. Peeta does not bother to open the lights. Instead, he finds my hand in the dark, and tugs me forward. My boots cluck, echoing in the empty room. What ever was left in the bakery from the last time I came is now gone. I wonder how this bakery looks like when the lights are on. "Up the steps," he says hoarsely. I carefully climb the stairs, balancing myself with the railing. I do not trust myself to let go. When I finally reach the second floor, Peeta grips onto my arm and leads me to the other flight of stairs. Are we going to the attic? For a fleeting moment, I become concerned as to why he's taking me up there. But that moment passes, as I realize Peeta would never harm me.

The attic is dark and cold. The hard wood floor creaks as I walk through it. I watch the shadows as Peeta lifts an arm up to the air, and tug on a string. A yellow light illuminates the room. I take this moment to scan my surroundings. There are boxes shoved to the corners of the room. A rolled-up carpet lays on the floor, and an old sofa is placed in the center of the area. A small window is in front of us, which reveals the ongoing blizzard outside. Peeta walks to the sofa, and slowly placing himself at one end. I settle myself on the other end, and I cross my legs. I notice him take off his shoes, so I take off my own. I feel the snowflakes on my hair begin to melt, and the water dampens my shirt. I take off my jacket and toss it over the back of the sofa. I rest my back, closing my eyes as I try to relax, trying to remain calm. It does not help that my heart feels like it will fly out of my chest.

"Two years ago, my father had a heart attack," I twist my neck to look at Peeta, who is focusing his vision on his clasped hands. "He stayed in the hospital for awhile, but we thought he was going to be okay. He seemed to be getting along pretty well, until one of the doctors found out that a few of his arteries, connected to his brain, were blocked. He needed surgery right away." It's as I'm not even here by the way he's speaking, almost narrating a story of someone else's tragedy rather than his own. I finally realize how far gone he is. How hurt he is. And how wrong I was. "The rest of my family thought we could get by. But our business was not going so well, and some days we only made ten dollars. We didn't have enough income to get Dad treatment, and we were losing our business. The rest of them were in denial, but I wasn't. I loved my father, I could not watch him die. So, I took matters into my own hands."

I bite my lip, already anticipating the next few words he will say. "There was a guy I knew. He was not my friend, a friend of a friend, actually. But he, Darius, was a nice person, so I knew he could help me get some money. Any way, I lied to my family that I was working at the grocery store. Instead, I've been selling drugs. A week or so later, I had made enough money for the treatment. They questioned how I could've earned such a large sum of money in such a short time, but they were not complaining. Dad got the treatment. Then, a few weeks later he got advanced heart failure . It was incurable, and he died a few days later." My head is spinning again, and I feel the tears pool in my eyes. I blink them back though, because I want to know the rest.

"Go on," I tell him, trying to maintain composure.

"I was depressed for weeks. I had not gone out, I spent most of my days alone in my bedroom. Then one night, I was walking on the streets alone and I was kidnapped by the gang. I was thrown in the back of a car and taken to an abandoned farm. They thought I snitched on them because I haven't completed any of my tasks. But I didn't snitch, I simply thought working with them was a one time thing. Again, I was wrong." Peeta covers his face with his arms, and his body begins to tremble. He doesn't make a sound. He is crouched into a ball, as if he wanted to disappear from this world. I scoot in closer, and gently place my hand on his shoulder. We stay like this for awhile.

"Peeta," I whisper. "Are you still part of this gang?"

He lifts his head. His eyes are still closed, but he nods. "I can't leave. Once you're in, you can't get out. Whoever leaves is automatically marked as a traitor. They either kill you or your family. All these gangs are interconnected, so if I report them all hell breaks loose. All I ever wanted was to save my father, but even then I failed. Now, I'm forever bound to them. That's why I avoided you for all those years, Katniss. That's why I kept on pushing you away. But now, I can't. I failed again."

"You have not failed!" I tell him angrily. He opens his eyes, stunned by my sudden outburst. "It's not your fault of what has happened. None of it is. You tried your best, so no one can hold you accountable for it. Not even yourself."

"And it went to waste! He's dead, Katniss!" he cries out. I take his clenched fists, and lower them to his lips. I hold onto them, making sure he doesn't do anything stupid.

I continue, "I'm sure your father knows that you tried. You did everything you could, and your father realized that. He loved you, Peeta."

"He doesn't," he spits. "How could he love me? I'm part of the Reapers, Katniss. And it is because of _me, _Cato was killed. I'm everything he was against."

I don't know what to say, so I remain silent.

"On my way to the meeting with the Reapers, Cato followed me. He attacked me. I was on the floor when Darius found me, so he ripped Cato off of me. The rest of the gang came along. I tried to tell them to stop, but they wouldn't listen. Before my very eyes, Katniss, they killed him," Peeta cracks his knuckles when he says this. The emotions on his face are indescribable. His haunted eyes send chills to my back. "Darius told me to run, so I did. The rest of the gang fled from the scene. The only thing left was Cato's dead body."

My stomach begins to churn. I want to throw up. How could all of these horrors been going on behind closed doors? How could I have not known? When I look at Peeta again, I no longer see my dandelion. And it pains me when I think this, but it's true. It's not his fault, I convince myself. It's not. I shake my head. Peeta never intended for any of this. He was thrust into unimaginable, tragic circumstances. He made mistakes, but so have I.

"Katniss, I know they're going to arrest me. So I'm going to turn myself in," he says. The wind thuds against the window, and I watch outside become into a sheet of white. In this type of weather, Peeta and I would be in my room watching Home Alone with cups of hot chocolate a few years ago. Now, we' re in Peeta's attic discussing his past crimes.

"No," I snap. "Don't do it." I look up at him, and clench onto his bicep. He opens his mouth to begin a long argument, but I bring a finger to his lips to shush him. "Listen to me, Peeta. It's not your fault, not any of it. You did not kill him, he was the one you wanted to kill you. The only thing you've done wrong was fighting with him in school, but you already paid your price in detention. There's no point in bringing it up, because nobody has proof that your gang killed him."

He furrows his eyebrows and shakes his head. "You don't understand, Katniss. I'm going to be their prime suspect. When they speak to the school, they will say that on the same day I've fought with him. And of course, it would make sense I would kill him. I don't know why they haven't arrested me already," he explains. "It's a dangerous game right now, Katniss. Darius made a mistake by getting involved with mine and Cato's fight. The rest of the gang had to kill Cato because he followed me to our secret hideout."

I am about to open my mouth to interject, but he continues, "But that is not even the surface, Katniss. I have to turn myself in, or else my entire family will be in danger. If I tell the police I killed Cato, the case will be over and only I will have to face the consequences. If I tell them the truth, then my entire gang will be in trouble. Like I've told you, all the gangs are interconnected. They will kill every one I love. Or, most ideally, perhaps the Reapers will simply kill me to save their own skin."

My heart begins to thud against my chest. Oh no. Peeta is in grave danger. And honestly, I have no advice to give. I don't know what to say, I don't know what to do. I bite my lip, trying to stifle a cry. It's all my fault! I should've reported Peeta's problems from the very beginning, I should've read the signs! Instead, I ignored them. I pretended everything is fine. So, I suddenly reach for his shirt and pull it down to reveal a bruise. "Your mother did this," I say thickly. "Why?"

"She was always abusive. It became worse when she found the blunts underneath my mattress. I couldn't explain to her why I had them, because then she would hit me. She wouldn't understand because she never allowed me to explain. And then, she left a couple of weeks ago when I came home drunk. I don't know where she is," he whispers. He seems distant, perhaps reminiscing of time much far away from this. He doesn't seem to upset about it though, because she is gone now. "The abuse wasn't too bad, honestly. I kind of deserved it, I mean, which mother wouldn't be angry about her son doing drugs?" he says with a cold chuckle.

He shoots me a look. "I wasn't doing drugs though, I never did. Except smoking and drinking, but none of that other stuff. I only sold it. The money I made always went back to the gang. They only allowed me to use the money when I first began. Then, they started taking more of it away from me, until I made none myself. The used my desperate times to their advantage. The only one benefiting was them. I was a piece in their games. Now, I can't get out."

Once again, I remain silent. But then, I kiss him.

He is surprised at first, but then he responds just as eagerly. He then pulls me on top of him, and wraps his arms on my waist. I run my fingers through his course curls, trying to memorize the texture of them. I feel the skin along his jaw, the slight stubble brushing against my skin. He runs his hands over my body, through every curve and crook and all over again. Then, he takes my shoulders, and flips our positions. He tosses me underneath him, so I am fully at his mercy. He pins me down, bringing my arms over my head. "Katniss, I love you," he states. I see eyes shine with tears, and I watch them escape. "I've loved you since the first time I've seen you. You were wearing a red, plaid dress, with two braids instead of one. You sang in music class, and I swear the birds outside fell silent. Since that day, I knew I was a goner. I fell in love with you. Throughout the years, it used to pain me that you only saw me as a friend. But I didn't want to lose what little we had." My heart begins to clench, and I become so stunned that I'm lost for words. "I love you so much. You are the most beautiful girl I've seen, inside and out." With those few words, I get up from the couch, almost knocking Peeta over.

Do I love Peeta? I care for him, yes. He is my best friend. But do I think of him beyond that? There is no denying that he is attractive, and he does have a good heart. But if I utter those words, what would happen next? Where would we be? What would this make us?

But we don't have time left. And I have no idea what tomorrow will bring. All I know is that I want to spend every moment I can with Peeta. I want to relive good memories with him, and make ones for us to reminisce in the future. What am I so afraid of? Why is it so difficult for me to admit? I've been feeling this for as long as I remember, though I've trying to push it down and cover it up. However, it can no longer be hidden.

All the while, Peeta is staring at me, with those beautiful blue eyes, looking hurt and rejected. I swallow hard. I push aside my feelings of fear and uncertainty, and say the words, "I love you too."

So when he kisses me again, I allow myself to forget about the world.

* * *

**a/c: That was one tough chapter to write! Thank you for taking the time to read it, I really appreciate it.**

**Firstly, I want to give a BIG thanks to my beta- Daisy3D! Daisy is a wonderful author and person, be sure to check out her awesome fanfictions! I'm sure you all will enjoy them, they are very well written. **

**There are roughly 6 more chapters to go, including an epilogue. Don't worry, there's still a lot more to come!**

**Also, I'm thinking about writing a few one shots for this story. Please be sure to send me a few ideas! I am on my winter break so I have tons of time to write. **

**The song at the beginning of the chapter is from She Wolf, by Sia.**

**Thanks again!**

**-Alina**


	14. Innocent

**A/C:** This chapter will be an emotional roller coaster...Sorry for the late update, by the way.

* * *

I wake up from a peaceful sleep, feeling satisfied and well rested. It's been weeks since I've been able to sleep like this, without being tormented by night terrors or constant stress. But as I squirm to stretch my legs, I realize that I am pressed against something warm and firm. My heart begins to pound, and I begin to wonder where I am. Carefully turning to my left side, I realize what I've been sleeping next to. Or who, for that matter.

Peeta.

I immediately get up. My eyes travel down my body, and I sigh in relief when I see my clothes are on. But then my cheeks burn, feeling embarrassed that I would've considered such thing. Biting my lip, I turn away from the sofa where Peeta and I had been sleeping on, and I consider going home. When I take a glance at Peeta, whose face has softened in sleep, I decide against it. I should wait until he is up, so I can be reassured that he is feeling okay.

I really haven't processed the fact that he is a gang member, and there is a possibility of him getting arrested. It's surreal. Then again, circumstances change people. I haven't been able to understand this until this very moment. What ever the future hold, I promise myself that I will stand by Peeta. I know he's made the mistake of joining this gang, but he genuinely does have a good heart. Sometimes people have to commit evil so that they can do good. The world is neither black nor white.

I walk across the room, and I stand in front of the small window. Pressing my hands against the cold glass, I watch the cloudy sky. It has stopped snowing, but I can only imagine what a mission it would be to walk home. But that should be the least of my worries. I trace a line against the condensation forming on the glass, and I think about what Peeta's next steps should be. It takes nearly ten minutes for me to finally figure out that there is no way out. There will be consequences in every decision he will make. If he lies and tells the police that he was the one who killed Cato, then automatically Peeta would be arrested with first degree murder. His family would be safe. However, if he tells the truth, he would simply be charged for selling drugs, and his gang would be arrested for murder. However, his family may be killed. I would opt for the latter, but of course Peeta would not. I cannot bear to see Peeta being arrested for a crime he did not commit, especially since all he ever wanted to do is help his family. The thought of my dandelion alone in those cold, wet cells for the entirety of his life sends shivers down my back. Who knows what will happen in the next few moments. Will he be arrested today? Will he be killed by his gang?

The sound of Peeta groaning causes me to jump. I turn around instantly, which is when I see Peeta sitting on the couch, rubbing his eyes. "Katniss?" he mumbles, his voice laced with sleepiness. My heart begins to race, secretly thinking how attractive it sounds. I shake my head, trying to think of other things. I walk towards him, and give me a tight smile.

"How are you feeling?" I ask softly, brushing his curls away from his eyes.

He yawns. Nodding his head he says, "I've forgotten how a goodnight's sleep feels like."

We remain silent for a moment, but then he blurts out, "I'm sorry." I knit my eyebrows, wondering what on earth he could be apologizing for. He bites his lip, looking very ashamed. He continues, "I shouldn't have brought you into my problems. You don't need to worry about me.. I shouldn't have told you I love you, I don't want you to think your forever bound to me because of those words. You have the right to date and marry whoever you want, Gale or whomever. I may be arrested and put into jail, I don't want you to wait for me."

All the while, I remain silent. It is then I realize why I've been so afraid of love - it is because I don't want to lose them. Now, this fear is becoming into my reality. And I have no idea what to say. So, I respond to only one thing I know the answer to, "I don't want Gale. I want you." And, it's the truth. First of all, I could never think of Gale as anything beyond a friend, I mean, just the thought of dating him causes me to gag. Also, if I lose Peeta, I will lose myself. As much as I try to tell myself that I don't need him, I do. Although back then I would never admit it, the past two years were horrendous for me. I remember searching for a blond head ever day in the halls. Passing the bakery, hoping he would come out and invite me inside. Subconsciously searching a sunset orange t-shirt in the malls. Stalking him on Facebook, to see if he has a girlfriend...

Suddenly, something strikes me.

Prim.

"What time is it?" I ask, scanning the attic, hoping to see a clock somewhere. There isn't, of course. Peeta looks at me strangely, and I quickly explain, "I need to pick up Prim from school." Throwing on my backpack, I give him a nod.

"Oh," he says. He looks away.

As I turn to leave the attic, Peeta says, "Goodbye, Katniss." I spare him a glance, and grit my teeth. I don't want him to speak as if it'll be the last time we'll see each other. Realistically, the police ought to question him sooner or later. But I wish I would know when.

"I'll come back soon, Peeta," I tell him with a scowl. I'm not letting him deal with this alone. "Stay at home for a bit, after I walk Prim home I'll come back. Then we can figure something out together."

Peeta is speaking, but I don't understand what he is saying because I already left the room.

My stomach plummets once I exit our little safe-haven. It felt like a fantasy, secluded from the outside world. Now, here I am, out in the open, and I have to face the world and all its issues. My heart aches, wishing I could be back in Peeta's arms. I felt so safe and warm, it's like he was securing me from all the dangers around us. I felt like I was cared for. I shiver in the bitter, cold air, imagining how nice it would be if he were here right now. In another world, in another time, we'd all be safe and happy. And these problems would never have existed in the first place.

I am ten minutes late. Prim is leaning against the oak tree again, and Gale and Rory are beside her. Gale gives me a pointed look as I approach them. Rory and Prim are too busy chatting to notice me. However, he leaves the two and comes forward to speak to me in private. Grabbing my arm roughly, he pulls me to the side and scowls.

"Where were you?" Gale snaps. His eyes flash with anger, and his jaw is set like it usually is when he's furious.

Biting my lip, I simply say, "Thanks for watching Prim."

"Don't change the subject. This is the _second _time I had to wait with Prim," he says in annoyance. He crosses his arms, and looks at me expectantly. I scan the area, and I notice there are only a handful of kids remaining on school property. For a moment I feel guilty, but then he continues, "I had enough of your secretive shit, Katniss. What the fuck is going on with you and _him_?" The word "him" escapes his mouth very bitterly, with so much disgust that I shudder.

"It's none of your business," I spit, trying to compose myself. I don't want to yell at him in front of the kids, but I'm not taking his mood swings either. Then, I nudge him away, and stalk my way towards Prim. I don't need Gale to give me a speech about why I shouldn't be with Peeta, especially since he barely knows anything about him. He has no right!

Gale is quick though, and he blocks me from passing him. "I know you left school with Peeta. There was talk in school, so don't play dumb."

"It's private, Gale," I state. I elbow him away, and shoot him a look. "You have no right to get involved in my personal matters."

Gale grabs my wrist and pulls me towards him. He takes both of my arms, refusing to let go. He towers over me, and gives me one of his disapproving shakes of his head. I know he won't let this slide. "Well, you have to understand, _Everdeen_, that I have every right to get involved. Especially since it concerns your very well-being. I've known you since we were in diapers, so don't you dare say to me I shouldn't be concerned." I open my mouth to retaliate, but he cuts me off. "When Mellark gets arrested for killing Cato, you may get in trouble yourself. They will probably convict you of killing him as well, since you were also involved in that fight on Friday. On top of that, you've been spending a lot of time with him, even skipping school. You're throwing your life away, Katniss. Just for that bastard."

I know Gale means well, but I cannot help myself from tossing his hand away and slapping him across the cheek. "You don't know shit about Peeta. Get the fuck away from me, Gale." I turn my head sharply, and I automatically meet eyes with Prim. She has been watching us the entire time, with concern etched in every muscle. Rory is by her side, holding her arm. I don't want to deal with this right now. "Come on, Prim," I say sternly,. Prim scurries over to me, without so much of a goodbye to Rory.

We walk in silence. Gnawing inside my cheek, I try not to show my undying anger and frustration. It's unfair for me to lash out on Prim, so I find it better to avoid any conversation with her. But Prim is not one to pretend everything is fine. She's not like me. Instead, she blurts out, "What's wrong?" Her blue eyes shine in concern, growing larger with every passing moment. I attempt not to compare them with a certain some one.

Prim is terrible at hiding that she's staring. I pretend not to notice, and focus my attention on the snow settled on the branches of the trees. But like me, she does not relent. "What did Gale say?"

"It doesn't matter," I snap, uncaring of my tone of voice. Usually I'd feel guilty, but I'm just too tired and stressed out to worry about other people's feelings right now.

Prim looks at me nervously, and tells me timidly, "I know about what's going on, Katniss. There is a lot of talk."

I immediately stop in my mid-step. Peeta is a senior, and Prim is only a freshman. Gossip really must be flooding the school if it has reached to my innocent, naive little sister. "I don't believe them, though. Peeta wouldn't do anything like that, it's just gossip." She shakes her head, as if she's dismissing the very thought. "And _Peeta_? In a _gang_? Those two words can't be in the same sentence. Peeta is the most kindest boy I know, he wouldn't do anything like that."

I almost want to burst out crying, but I hold the tears in. I keep them in until I return home.

"Where's your bag, Katniss?" Mom asks tersely as soon as I step foot inside our home. Prim sends me a knowing look, but thankfully she doesn't utter a word towards Mom.

I mumble, "I left it in my locker. I don't have any homework today." That is a terrible lie. Finals are coming up in a few weeks, and there is always an overload of homework, assignments, and lab reports. Although I cannot say Mom is the most familiar with the school system, I think she is at least aware of that. But I still avoid eye contact, holding onto the hope that she believes me.

Closing my fists tightly, I mentally scold myself. I need to return to Peeta's, but I'm wasting time trying to convince Mom of my stupid lie. "Yeah, Mom. I just came to drop off Prim. I have a project to work on with a friend," I quickly say as I turn my back to her, bracing myself to leave.

But then Mom firmly takes my arm. She grips onto it, and forces me to look at her. "Katniss, I know you weren't in school today. Where were you?"

_Shit. _How could have I been so stupid? The school's administration always notifies the parents about their child's absences for every class. Sure enough Mom received the voice mail from school. I could have at least prepared an excuse. But instead, I'm staring at my mother with my mouth agape, flabbergasted about her knowledge.

A few moments later, I stammer out, "It doesn't- doesn't, no. It doesn't matter, I'm-I'm fine."

She squints at me, eyeing me very carefully. Prim stands at her side, looking perplexed at the current situation.

Quite honestly, I just decided to make a run for it. Without a second to spare, I twisted the doorknob open, which sent the door slamming against the wall. That will surely cause a dent on the wall, but right now I couldn't care less. Any way, I scurry down the front porch, focussing of what's ahead of me instead of what's behind me. Mom and Prim are obviously at the door, probably yelling at me to come back, but I pay them no attention. I sprint across the neighbourhood, only hearing the wind gushing through my ears and my heart thumping against my chest. Adrenaline courses through my veins, I almost feel like I'm flying. I let my feet guide me through Main Street, past the Cartwright Sweet Shop. My shoes soak up the slush and dirty snow, which kind of weighs me down. For a moment I wish I could take a rest, and catch my breath. No. Peeta, Peeta, Peeta. I'm doing it for him. He needs me right now, and we need to find a way to escape from this terrible situation. Will we run away? Become into hitch-hikers and travel through the states under fake IDs? Will I plead for his case, begging for the police to understand how Peeta should be free? Or will I let Peeta to sacrifice himself for his family? I shake my head. Not now. I'll think about all of this later, once I reach his house. I just need to run. But I only allow myself to slow down once I see flashing blue and red flashing lights in the distance, along with the sounds of those cursed sirens.

I'm too late.

I almost don't want to believe it. The adrenaline immediately subsides, and all I'm left with a cold, empty feeling inside. Could my eyes and ears betray me? Could this all be a terrible nightmare? It would be one hellish nightmare though, watching the boy I love get arrested for a murder he didn't commit. I actually pinch myself on the wrist, hoping I could wake from this terrible dream.

I barge towards the house, ignoring the policemen's protests. Soon enough they grab me, pulling me away from the entrance. I'm surrounded by them, suffocating from both the close proximity and the fact that I can't I reach the boy I love. And then, I watch as two brute cops exit the house, holding onto a very unreadable Peeta. His eyes are cloudy, and there are a few tears streaking across his cheeks. His thin, wiry arms are behind him, locked together with those stupid handcuffs that really shouldn't belong there. I scream his name. "Peeta!" He glances up, and he locks his eyes with my own. He shakes his head ever so slightly, signalling me to stop associating myself with him. But I don't give a shit what his desires are, I am not letting him go willingly! He's not going to get arrested for something he didn't even do!

I want to release myself from this stupid man's grip, and go save the boy with the bread. But the policeman holds me back, yelling at me to move away. "Peeta!" I squirm away from the man, but his grip on me is tighter. Eventually, I had enough and I kick the policeman in the shins, and I sprint towards the blue-eyed boy. Even though a cop is on each side of Peeta, I manage to push both them away for only a second.I kiss him roughly on the lips, tasting tears and alcohol and smoke. It is a wonderful sensation, and warmth spreads through my body and the tip of my very being. But of course, that moment doesn't last very long, because a few other cops come along and shove me away. This time, they are relentless. They push me along the yard, yelling at me for going against an officer's orders, and that I can be fined for this. "He's innocent!" I plead. "He didn't do anything!" I don't care if Peeta will hate me for this, but the truth must come out. "Please, let him go!" I sob as the policemen lead me to one of the police-cars, and they bend me over as metal encasing both my wrists. The handcuffs lock shut.

I feel the life escape my soul as I'm confined in the cursed car, watching from the window as Peeta is led to another.

* * *

**I know that some of you are hating me with the way the story is turning out, but this event is very necessary in the plot. I can promise you Everlark is end-game, but I can't promise it'll be a happy ending. I really want to be courageous with this story, which is why I'm taking this story down this road. **

**Yeah, so I just really wanted to mention this. I know a few of you are kind of pissed that Peeta isn't that good boy we see in other fanfictions, but circumstances do really change people. The reason why I chose this theme is because I felt like I could spread a lot of awareness on issues that a lot of youth are suffering through silently, like ****domestic abuse, gang violence, drug use, depression, etc. But like**** we all know that he still is the kind-hearted and optimistic boy inside of him, the same goes for other teenagers around the world. We just need to accept them and try to help them through these struggles, just the way Katniss is.**

**I really hope you're enjoying this fanfiction so far! :)**

**-Alina**


	15. Hope

**A/C: A filler chapter, but it's really important for the plot. The next chapter will be the last, and then I will include an epilogue.**

* * *

_Oh, you can't hear me cry_

_See my dreams all die_

_From where you're standing,_

_On your own._

_It's so quiet here,_

_And I feel so cold._

_This house no longer feels like home._

* * *

"Who is Peeta Mellark to you?" the grey-haired, steely eyed woman asks. Her voice is firm and accusatory. If it were a normal day, I'd stare her down and make snide remarks. But today, I'm a wreck. I've been, quite pathetically, sobbing since the moment I've seen Peeta restrained by those cops. Now, I simply answer all her questions without hesitance.

But I really don't know how to respond to that question. Is he my boyfriend? My lover? My friend? After a few moments, I whisper, "My partner." I think our relationship is far more complicated than that, but there's no word in the English language that could accurately describe it.

The woman narrows her eyes at me, and quickly scribbles something down on her notepad while assessing my state. I shift uneasily, trying to avoid her hard gaze. But the entire room is white, so I have no choice but to focus my attention on the person in front of me. The chairs are hard and uncomfortable, but at least my hands aren't in handcuffs. "How would you describe Mellark?" she asks coolly.

"Kind, generous, empathetic," I blurt. She raises her eyebrow, but then I continue, "His father is deceased. His mother abused him. His brothers abandoned him to live with her alone." The woman does not seem convinced, but how those _facts _not be true? "Before his father died, he had advanced heart failure and he needed treatment. His family was not making enough money, so he had to take measures so his father would live. Yeah, he sold drugs. But he had no choice, he was not given any social or financial support!" I slam my fist down, and yell, "The stupid gang killed Cato! Cato followed Peeta after school, and then he fought with him. They were right in front of the gang's hideout, so the entire gang had to kill Cato. Peeta was not involved in killing him! He didn't even know Cato was following him. He only fought back when Cato hit him, but after the gang got involved Peeta had no part in the murder! Peeta didn't murder a single soul!"

All the while, she continues to jot notes on her notepad. Her expression is indescribable, emotionless. "How do you know all this?"

My shoulders slump. "He told me. This morning, I found him and he told me this entire story."

"Are you convinced that he told the truth?" she says, her lips pursed into a line.

I nod my head. "He wouldn't lie to me. He loves me."

"Do you think it is possible that he lied to you so you could be on his side? And his love could have simply been a façade?" she asks.

My blood boils with anger. With my head beginning to spin, I clutch onto the table so I can compose myself. But the fury courses through my veins, and I snap. "He fucking loved me since we were kids. We were friends for _years_. You could ask any teacher, student, or friend in our school and they could confirm this. We can all _agree_ that Peeta changed after his father died! So don't fucking tell me that his love was fake. It was real. It was _always_ real."

Her lip lifts as I say this. It takes every ounce of my willpower not to punch that bitch in the face. "I was never insisting that he never loved you, Katniss Everdeen. It was merely a question. Now if you want to convince me that your _Peeta_ is innocent, and that you are innocent _yourself_, it would be in your best interest to remain professional."

I sink the chair, allowing my muscles turn limp. I blink back the tears, trying to stay strong. She continues, "Did you have any knowledge that he was in the gang prior to the murder?"

I sigh heavily. Gale's words fill my head, and then I begin to wonder what he's thinking now that Peeta has been arrested. "There was gossip, but I never believed it."

"Why didn't Peeta ever tell you that he was in the gang?"

"He pushed me away after his father died. He didn't want me involved in his personal life."

"Why didn't Peeta notify the police about the gang?"

"The gang would have killed his family or friends."

"Do you know anyone else involved in the gang?"

"Only one name - Darius."

A long series of the questions continue, and I answer as honestly as I can. A few minutes pass, and then sets her notebook on the table along with her pen. "Your answers are contradicting Peeta's. He took responsibility for the murder. Why are you defending a self-proclaimed murderer?"

I steadily take a deep breath. "Peeta doesn't want his family to get hurt. He is worried the gang might kill his loved ones if he tells the truth of what happened. He is selfless, he always has been. I tried to convince him to tell the truth, but he wouldn't listen to me." A lump is forming in my throat,and I attempt to swallow it down. "Please, Miss. Believe me. Peeta didn't kill him. Continue investigating, and you'll find out he wasn't the one who murdered him. It was the gang. He wanted them to stop, but they didn't listen."At this point, tears are freely falling from my eyes. I cannot stop them from escaping any more.

The woman looks at me, but her face remains passive. "But you can confirm that he has been selling drugs?"

I grit my teeth. With all that I've told her, the only thing she is concerned about is him selling drugs? Did she not understand that it was a measure necessary for his family's survival? "He was forced to face unimaginable circumstances. He has no support whatsoever. He lost his fucking father. His remaining family abandoned him. His mother abused him. And he _had _to stay in the gang. He couldn't leave, dammit!" I slam the desk with my fist, and it shakes violently due to the impact.

"Everyone has a choice, Katniss. And that was a decision he made for himself. And according to law, he is guilty for using and selling drugs," she says. Her eyes avoid mine as she gathers her belongings in her arms. She walks away from me, and opens the door. She exits without a word.

I slump in my chair, and I cover my face with my hands. A few seconds later, two brute security men barge into the room. They take my arms, and lead me out the door. We pass plain hallways, and then a waiting room is in front of me. There, I find families waiting in chairs. I scan the area, and surely enough I find my mother and Prim waiting for me. They have concerned expressions on their faces, but their eyes immediately light up when they see me. They rush forward, and embrace me tightly. The men let go, and say to Mother, "She is found innocent. She had no part in the crime." Then, they leave.

"Oh, Katniss," Mom says quietly, stroking my hair gently. "Let's go home."

I shake my head, and lightly push her away. "He didn't do it, Mom. He didn't."

...

Closing the door, I sink to my knees. I stare into the cold darkness, trying to recall good memories of my childhood. But as I think about one of my birthdays, one that Peeta attended and gifted me a homemade shell necklace, my head begins hurting. I don't want to think about it anymore. I crawl into a fetal position, and drop to the floor. I feel so empty. It's like I'm a hollow shell of my former self, missing an important part of myself. It does not take much effort to realize what, or who, I lost.

I think it's almost two hours by the time I hear a knock on my door. "Katniss?" Dad calls. He twists the doorknob, and tries to push it open. He stops when he realizes the resistance is because of my body. "Please, let me in." I do not respond. Although I love Dad, I just want to be alone. I cannot face him right now. I twists the doorknob again, and he exhales heavily. "Katniss, let me in," he repeats tiredly.

I shake my head, although I'm pretty sure he can't hear me since I'm on the other side of the door. Tears fall, and I'm sobbing all over again. I finally decide to shift to the wall. Once Dad hears this movement, he creaks the door open and shuffles inside. He settles himself beside me on the ground, and embraces me tightly. Whispering soothing words in my ear, I allow myself to cry on his shoulder. "He shouldn't be in jail, Dad," I say between sobs.

After a few moments, he replies, "I believe you." I look up to him, and I watch him stare out in the darkness. Then, they return to my face. His silver eyes, which mirror my own, look at me intently. "I know Peeta, Katniss. He wouldn't kill that boy."

"He won't be arrested for murder, Dad," I explain. Blinking back the tears, I continue, "Once they do the investigation, they will find out it was the gang who killed Cato. But then they will know Peeta has been selling drugs."

Dad has a confused expression on his face, and I realize that he has no knowledge about the matter. So I tell him everything.

He sighs heavily once I'm done. "The bail will be a large amount, Katniss. I can't afford it."

I shake my head. "I'm not asking you to bail him out, Dad," I reply. Although my Dad does make good money, it won't be enough. Also, it's unfair for me to ask him to use up all of his earnings to bail Peeta out. It should be my responsibility. "He wouldn't have been in this situation if it weren't for me. I should've been a better friend. I shouldn't have been so selfish."

"What's done is done, Katniss," he tells me softly. He stretches out his legs, and stares up at the ceiling. "He made the decision to sell those drugs, and nothing could have changed that. You tried your best, Katniss. And the most important thing of all is that you were by his side."

"If I swallowed up my pride back then, I could have found out what he was involved him. I could have convinced him to get out," I say.

Dad tucks a strand of hair behind my ear and says,"You know that he wouldn't, Katniss." And Dad's right. He wouldn't have.

"I need to go to the hearing. I need to be one of the witnesses," I tell him.

"No," Dad says, "You have to be neutral in order to be a witness."

"No-," I begin, but then Dad interrupts me.

"-but I'll still take you to the hearing."

* * *

Haymitch Abernathy enters my dreams.

I'm really confused when I see him at the remains of the Mellark bakery. There are broken bottles surrounding him, and he's eyeing a dead bird a few feet away from him. A few seconds later, he snaps his head up. He locks his grey eyes with my own, and gives me a slight nod of his head. "Stay alive," he says. And then, his entire body disintegrates. He disappears. I run towards where used to be, and I search for his remains. All that is left are those stupid bottles. I kick them across the pavement, watching them smash into tiny pieces.

Suddenly, the bakery comes together. The door, the windows, the wooden walls, the bricks all float in the air. I stand dumbfounded and watch this supernatural occurrence play out. All the remains come together, and build themselves into the building it once was. I blink. The bakery is now intact.

I watch myself knock on the bakery's door, and Peeta immediately comes out. We appear to be around ten years old, and he is holding a soccer ball. We both settle ourselves at the front yard, and we begin kicking the ball along the grass.

* * *

I don't even know how I wake up the next morning. The curtains are drawn together, and my bedroom is entirely dark. Is it noon? Afternoon? The evening? No. I scramble out of my bed, and I search for my phone. I sigh in relief when I realize it's only 11:30. I have half an hour to get ready for the hearing.

I pull on a black dress that reaches my knees. I wear red cardigan on top, and tie my hair into a bread. I look at my reflection carefully, and I sigh. Two years ago, or even yesterday, I never believed I would be in the position I am in right now. Ignorance is a bliss, I think to myself wistfully. But now it's time to face the music. I have to be there for Peeta. Apparently I cannot participate in the hearings at all, but at least when Peeta sees my face he will know who he is fighting for. But in the back of my mind, I know he won't actually be fighting for me. He will be fighting for his family. He will lie, and try to convince the judge that he was the one who killed his family. And I honestly hate him for it.

Suddenly, I remember something. I rush over to my night-stand, and I open the drawer. There, I find the dandelion drawing. That beautiful dandelion drawing that gave me hope. I fold the sketch neatly in quarters, and place it in my pocket. I need a reminder that life can go on despite all the losses. And hopefully the dandelion will give me that.

"Katniss," Dad calls from downstairs. I exhale, trying to release all my anxiety. I slowly make my way down the stairs, where I find my family in the corridor. They look at me sombrely. I avoid their gaze as I step into my flats. Once I'm on my feet, I nod Dad. He returns the nod, and he opens the door. We all exit the house and enter our car.

* * *

**Thank you for all the support!**

**Oh, and please check out my new fanfiction! It's called "Unsinkable"! It's a crossover of Hunger Games and the Titanic :) If you're enjoying this story, hopefully you'll enjoy that one:)**


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